mesh
by TheREALCarbyLove
Summary: mesh: ENMESH, ENTANGLE; to coordinate closely: INTERLOCK; to fit or work together properly: COORDINATE
1. New Beginning

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_Title: mesh _

_Author: Andrea_

_Rating: R_

_Summary. Abby. Carter. And I think it's possible that the 'b' word might come up. Maybe._

_Author's Note: Here's another one. I know. But I can't stop. All the endless variations, and I must write about everyone that I think up. This one will be a little different. But not that different … look who's writing it. Big thanks for previewing and/or proofreading to LISA, HEATHER, BETH and SANDY. They mostly liked it, I hope everyone else will too. And major ups to LISA for coming up with the title. Thanks, dude. It's quite clever, as you know. Everyone tell Lisa how clever it is. Oh wait, you don't know the half of it yet … never mind. But anyway … THANKS, LISE!_

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_**mesh** _

mesh: ENMESH, ENTANGLE; to coordinate closely: INTERLOCK; to fit or work together properly: COORDINATE

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Chapter 1: New Beginning

"Hi! Hi, baby," I call happily as I walk into the lounge and eagerly cross the room, reaching for the little arms that are already stretched out toward me. "Hey, how are you? I've missed you." My high-pitched voice and big smile win me a smile in return. I scoop the chubby little body into my arms and cuddle it up against my chest. A pudgy little baby arm flails around until the hand finds a purchase on my nose and slips to my lips. I open my mouth and pretend to nibble at the fingers, making growling noises that inspire a fit of giggles.

"I know you probably didn't get any lunch today," Susan says to me, "But could you please refrain from chewing on my baby?"

"Charlie likes it," I tell her in mock defiance. "Don't you, Charlie?" I coo at the baby that I'm bouncing in my arms.

"Of course Charlie likes it. Charlie loves you, and anything you do gets a smile."

"Do you love your Aunt Abby, Charlie? Well, the feeling is mutual. Aunt Abby love you, too. Yes, that's right." And I do. There's something about this baby … maybe it's the cherub face, or the abundance of smiles, or just the fact that this is my best friend's child … but I do love this kid. And I turn into a gushing lunatic every time Charlie shows up. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I coo, shifting the baby onto my hip. "I didn't know it was take your baby to work day."

"Well, it is if your baby's father drops by to say that he _forgot_ that his schedule got changed, and guess what? He's about to hop in a helicopter so Mommy is left holding the bag. Or the baby, I guess. Daddy flaked out on us, didn't he, Charlie?"

"So Chuck just came by and dropped the baby off with you with no warning?"

"Pretty much. Never mind that I'm only halfway through my shift. And oddly enough Charlie's baby-sitter was _not_ just sitting around on a Friday night waiting to see if maybe I was going to need someone to do a little last minute baby-sitting. Stranger still, my father couldn't be persuaded to get off his bar stool and come pick up Charlie. Day care is closed so … if I can just find my address book, we'll keep our fingers crossed that there's someone out there who has no life and is just sitting at home with nothing better to do than baby-sit tonight. Keep your little fingers crossed, munchkin." Susan continues rooting through her bag in an attempt to find her address book while I continue to play with the baby.

"You know," I start, "I'm off in about a half an hour. And since you correctly guessed that lunch was nothing more than a granola bar between traumas, I guess … technically, since I haven't had any breaks today, I could leave right now."

Susan looks up from her search, a strange expression on her face. "Good for you." She returns to her bag, starting to pull things out one at a time.

"I was trying to say that I know someone who fits that description of 'loser with nothing to do on a Friday night.'"

That piques her attention. "Someone who might be willing to baby-sit?"

"Yeah, I think so," I tell her, looking down at Charlie and running my hand over the soft baby curls.

"Who?" She asks eagerly.

"Since your mom's so flustered right now, we're gonna overlook this slight, aren't we Charlie?" I look over at Susan. "_Me._ I'll watch Charlie."

"You want to baby-sit?"

"Sure. We just got done saying how much I love Charlie, and Charlie loves me. So it'll be fun for me. And it's not like I don't know my way around a baby. Or like I've never watched Charlie before."

"You don't have any plans?"

"Just to sit on Carter's couch.

"Like you do every night."

"Like I do _most_ every night. But not every single night."

"No. Sometimes you have to work. You know, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time on Carter's couch these days."

I just shrug. She's right. But I'm not sure what she wants me to say about it. I finally go with, "Yeah … so?"

"So … I'm just wondering if all you two really do is watch movies and eat pizza."

"Of course not."

"Really?" Her eyes light up, and of course, I realize what she's getting at.

"Sometimes we eat Chinese take-out. And we've been known to play Monopoly."

"Is it really just board games and movies, or is that just what you're telling me?"

"We're _friends_, Susan. I think you might be familiar with the meaning of the word."

"Sure. You and I are friends. You and Carter are a lot more than that. Or you wouldn't be practically living at his place, spending twenty-three hours a day holding his hand."

She makes it sound so silly. "It's not like that, Susan. He just … he's having a tough time of it, you know that. He's going through a rough patch. And he needs a friend, that's all."

"Come on, Abby. When you're both at work, you're practically joined at the hip. When you're not at work, you're always going over to his place. You're there all the time. Hell, you've got a key to his house."

"I have a key to your house, too. What's your point?"

"You have a key to my place because Chuck manages to lose not only his keys, but also mine, on a monthly basis. Not so you can come and go as you please. Besides, you and I are _friends._"

"Just like Carter and I."

"Mm-hmm." She manages to pack a lot of skepticism into that sound.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said, Abby. _We_ are friends. You and Carter … you're more like … I don't know …" She hesitates, looking unsure, and then a smile spreads slowly across her face. "Maybe … soul mates."

"Oh, please." I'm sure my voice denotes just how absurd I think that statement is.

"Well, whatever word you like, then. But there's something special between you two. You can't deny it. Not after all you've been through … and the way you guys always just seem to gravitate towards one another no matter what. You know, I saw it as soon as I came back here. The first time I met you, and saw the two of you together, I knew. It was so obvious. It still is. And it always is. Even when you try to deny it. Even when he goes insane and disappears and then comes back here embroiled in what was undoubtedly the stupidest mistake of his life. I don't care how hard he tried to convince us, and himself, how happy he was … he still couldn't manage to stay away from you. And don't give me that 'but that's because we're friends' crap. It's more than that, and you know it."

"Susan …"

"Look, Abby … I don't know what it is that pulled you guys apart in the first place. And I certainly don't know what he was thinking when he left you or when he came back with … with … _her_ and tried to pretend like he was over you. All I know is … that's in the past now. And what you're left with is this … force that keeps you two spinning in each other's orbits all the time. And you don't know how lucky you are to have found that. To have someone like that in your life. We're not all so lucky."

"Hey, you've got Chuck," I remind her.

"Yeah. And what Chuck and I have is … nice. But … it's not what you and Carter have. It's not that once-in-a-lifetime, can't-live-without-you kind of thing. I mean, Chuck and I could probably spend the rest of our lives together and be perfectly …content. But if we went our separate ways tomorrow, that would be okay, too. He's a great guy, he's my baby's father, and I'll always love him because of that … but I'm still not sure that he's the one."

"I'm not sure that there's any such thing as 'the one.'"

"You should be," she says with a chuckle. "You've found him. It's the rest of us that are still looking who should wonder."

"Yeah, but …" I play idly with Charlie's little hand, letting my voice trail off while my thoughts swirl.

"What?"

"Well … if he were really … the one … why didn't it work?" I'm horrified to hear the little catch in my voice, and I swallow quickly to get the lump out of my throat.

"Just because things didn't go smoothly doesn't mean he's not the one. Haven't you ever heard that the course of true love never runs smooth? Maybe it was the right guy, but the wrong time. But now … now that you've both had some time to change and grow … maybe you're both ready. He's free now … you're still free … maybe it was all supposed to happen so that you'd find your way back to each other once you could handle it. And all this _friendship _now is just leading you to a second chance. Maybe last time was just practice. You have to admit, it'd be a lot easier the second time around. Sweeter, too, according to the infamous 'they.' Whoever 'they' are."

It's all too much for me. Maybe she's right. Maybe she's not. But I can't think about it now. Time to change the subject. "So do you want me to baby-sit or not?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "Of course. As long as it's not gonna be … inconvenient."

"Of course not. My _true love _and I are just gonna be sitting around staring at the TV so I don't think it'll be a problem to have Charlie join us. And if you'd rather I don't take the baby over there, I can always go to your place. I think Carter can make it on his own for one night."

"I don't care if you go to Carter's. I'm sure Charlie would love to visit Uncle Carter, wouldn't you, sweetie?" she asks, coming over and planting a kiss on the baby's forehead. "And you shouldn't joke about true love," she scolds me.

"Oh my _God._ You know what? I'm not having this conversation anymore. I'm gonna go hand off my patients and get changed, and then I'll come back and pick up Charlie. Okay, sweetie?" I hand the baby off to Susanbefore going back out into the ER to take care of all of the end-of-shift details. Little things like making sure my patients aren't neglected or forgotten or allowed to slip into some black hole or yawning abyss in my absence. I get changed and go back to the lounge where I find Charlie all ready to go in the carseat, and Susan anxious to give me a tour of the diaper bag.

"Okay, we've got diapers and wipes. Bottles. There should be plenty to get you through the evening. And there's a couple containers of food. Spoons, bibs …"

"Susan …"

"Some extra clothes, a few toys …" She's pulling out each item, as if to make sure I know what they are for. I guess she's afraid I'll try to tie a diaper around the baby's neck instead of a bib.

"Susan! I know what a diaper is, and I know how to use it. So unless there are any special instructions?'

"No, I don't think so."

"What about the bottles? Do you heat them up?"

"Yeah. You can just put them in the microwave. Thirty seconds on fifty percent power."

"Okay," I say, distractedly, busy smiling down at Charlie who has a hold of my hand.

"But be sure to shake it up and test the temperature." She really must think I don't know a damn thing about babies. I give her a look. "Just making sure."

"What about the food?"

"Put it on a spoon and feed it to the baby."

"Thanks for the tip, Mom. Here I was thinking I should spoon it into Charlie's ear. I meant, do you heat it up?"

"Oh. No, room temperature is fine. Unless it's been in the fridge, then nuke it for a few seconds."

"Got it. Ready to go, little one?" I sling the diaper bag over my shoulder and heft the carseat in the other arm.

"You'll be at Carter's, right?"

"Right. So just come pick up the baby … whenever. We'll be there."

"Okay." She pauses for a moment. "Do you know how to work the carseat?" What's to work? The baby's already in it, so I just have to strap it into the car. She's a nervous mom, I remind myself; humor her.

I turn and smile at her. "The seatbelt goes through those two doohickeys, right?"

"Is that the technical term? But yeah, just thread the seatbelt through them. Put it in the backseat. And make sure it's tight. Do you want me to come out and fasten it in for you?"

"Well, I think I can handle it, but if it'll make you feel better …"

"No, no. That's okay. Just come back in if you have any trouble."

"I will."

"And call. If you need anything at all. Or even if you just want to check in." In other words, she wants me to check in.

"Okay."

"And you know you can always come back here if it gets to be too much."

"_Susan_. I've been around babies before. I'm not twelve and this isn't my first time baby-sitting. And it's not like you've never left Charlie with me before. We'll be fine. I promise. But you can call to check in whenever you want. You can call every five minutes if you don't trust me."

"Of course I trust you. And it's not like you were planning to kidnap Charlie and run off to Canada."

"Damn! Now you've spoiled my plans. Oh well, another day, huh Charlie? Say good-bye to Mommy."

Susan leans down and smiles at the baby strapped into the carseat. "Bye, baby. Bye-bye, little one. Be good for Aunt Abby, okay? Mommy loves you." She kisses the baby's cheek and waves to us as she leaves the lounge, calling over her shoulder, "Remember … call if you need anything, anything at all."

"I will. We'll be fine. Try not to worry." She smiles bravely, but as Charlie and I are heading out, I can see her sneaking glances at us, probably trying to make sure that I don't drop the baby on my way to the car. And surprise, surprise, we get to the car without incident. I get the carseat wrestled into a seatbelt which isn't as easy as it looks, but it isn't so hard that it sends me running back inside for reinforcements, either. The drive goes smoothly with only one short bout of crying … Charlie, not me. And oddly enough the crying stopped as soon as I stopped singing and turned the radio back on. God, everyone's a critic. We pull up in front of Carter's place, and as usual, there's a spot on the street right in front of his house. I'm starting to think of it as my spot and beginning to wonder if he's paying the neighbors to leave it open. Of course, I could always park in the back, but this seems so much more convenient somehow. Especially tonight with Charlie in tow. As I'm gathering up all the baby gear, I begin to wonder if I should have called and given John some warning. Not that I think he'll mind, but … oh well, hopefully, it'll be a nice surprise. He always seems happy to see Charlie so I'm sure he'll enjoy the company. Still … but he never acts as if Susan's baby is an unpleasant reminder, so I'm sure it'll be okay with him. I hope it'll be okay with him.

"Okay, Charlie, here we go," I prattle as I lift a fussing baby from the carseat, hoping that being held will make Charlie happy. It seems to work, so I head for the front steps. But weighed down with the baby in one arm and the diaper bag and my own bag over my shoulder, I find it next to impossible to open the door. "I guess we'll ring the bell, huh? I hope Uncle John hears it. I hope Uncle John's ready for this," I say smiling at the little face that smiles back. I reach out and ring the bell.

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I hear the doorbell ring in spite of the fact that my head is buried in the refrigerator, surveying the left over take-out. I glance at the clock, wondering who could be at my door. It's probably Abby, I think, noting the time. But she never rings the bell. Maybe she forgot her keys. A hopeful thought springs into my head … maybe she had to ring the bell because her arms are so full of carry-out. After surveying the dismal selection in the fridge, I think we'll be needing to consult our stake of dog-eared take-out menus tonight. Unless Abby happened to bring dinner with her. Of course, with my luck, it won't even be Abby at the door. It'll probably be some religious fanatic wanting me to join their church or some college kid selling soap. Nevertheless, I open the door, hoping for the best. 

I open the door and for a moment, I freeze. There's Abby, standing in my doorway, grinning at the baby she holds in her arms. And for just the smallest moment, I'm lost in a fantasy of what might have been. Opening the door to a tired Abby, coming home, maybe after a long day at work, with our baby in her arms. Welcoming my family home. Looking forward to another night of nothing more than watching, in amusement and awe, the antics of the baby. This is what it would have looked like. Abby standing there looking happy and beautiful as she smiled at the adorable baby in her arms. And I would have been so proud to call them mine …

"Hi," she says, sounding rather chipper. Her voice breaks me out of my reverie, and I return the smile she's giving me.

"Hi."

"Surprise! I brought us some company."

"I see that. Hi, Charlie," I say with a grin and a little wave. The baby smiles shyly at me. I watch as the little head ducks into Abby's shoulder, nuzzling against her for comfort. Susan's green eyes, only in miniature, stare out at me from under long, blonde eyelashes. "Charlie," I say, realizing it for the first time, "You look just like your mom."

"He's right," Abby says to the baby, stepping through the doorway and into the hall, "You do, don't you? Yes, you do." She's cooing at the baby in happy, high-pitched voice and Charlie responds with a fit of giggles, clearly enamored of Aunt Abby. No shy smile for her, Charlie gives Abby a full body smile, legs kicking and arms waving around.

"Charlie's gonna be hanging out with us tonight. I hope that's okay."

"Of course. So to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Well, apparently Chuck forgot he was supposed to work tonight and Susan's in the middle of a shift. No one ever scheduled the baby-sitter so …"

"So it's Aunt Abby to the rescue?"

"Something like that, I guess." She moves into the living room and drops her bag and the diaper bag onto the couch and then sits down and settles the baby on her lap, beginning to strip off the baby's outerwear.

"So we're baby-sitting? All night?"

"Well, _I'm_ baby-sitting. I'm the one who agreed to do it."

"So I don't have to?" I ask as a joke. I mean, with the baby here, what does she think I'm going to do? Go in the other room and catch up on medical journals? It's not every day I get the chance to play with a baby.

"Of course not. That's not why I'm here. I mean, of course I can do it myself, but well … since I knew we had plans, but that we weren't … you know, going anywhere … well, when Susan needed someone to watch Charlie … I just figured we could all use the company. But since I didn't, you know, ask you if you wanted to baby-sit, I'm not expecting you to take care of the baby. And if you'd rather we're not here, well just go over to Susan's. I mean, that's not a problem."

"Abby …" Now I know what she's worried about. But I want to tell her that she doesn't have to worry, that I'm okay with it. But before I can get the words out, she interrupts.

She stops tending to the baby and looks up at me. Then she starts speaking in a rush, so that I have to listen carefully to catch it all. "You know what? I should have called. I shouldn't have just brought Charlie over here. I mean, I know it's hard enough for you … and to have a baby here, in your house … oh God, I'm sorry. I should have thought. Maybe we'll just go over to Susan's. I can call you once I get Charlie to bed, or I can come over when Susan gets home. I mean, not that I have to. Not that I think that you need me to. I know you'll be fine. Of course, you'll be fine … it's just that I feel bad because we had plans and then I …" She stops her stream of nervous chattering and, noticing the look on my face, demands, "What?"

I can't help it. I know I'm grinning at her, trying not to laugh. But it's funny. And she's cute when she's all flustered like this. "Abby," I say with a chuckle, "It's okay. I'm fine with you and Charlie being here. Really. I think it'll be fun."

"You're sure you're okay with it?" She looks up at me for a moment before her gaze travels back to the baby in her arms. I can't help but smile watching her smile at the baby. It's cute the way she can't seem to pull her attention from Charlie who is happily gurgling in her lap.

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm okay being around babies," I assure her. "I kinda have to be. They're everywhere, after all. Can't avoid them forever. And I don't want to. Especially not Charlie." I sit down next to them on the couch and take one of the baby's hands. No protests, but I do get eyed somewhat suspiciously. From both Charlie and Abby. Charlie who knows Abby much better than me, is probably trying to figure out if I'm friend or foe. I'm not sure what Abby's thinking. "What?" I ask in response to her narrowed eyes. "I really do like spending time with Charlie."

"I know. But … that doesn't mean you want to baby-sit … _all night_."

"Because I've got something better to do?" I ask skeptically, joking around. We both know I had no big plans. Dinner and a video with Abby, as usual. No reason Charlie can't join us on the couch.

"I don't know. You tell me. You didn't seem too excited about having the baby here all night."

"What? Oh," I say as I get a sudden flash of understanding. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant … is Charlie staying all night? You know, _over_ night. Not that it's a problem, I just don't know where a baby would sleep. The cribs are long gone, you know." I give her a lopsided smile.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, "Don't do that." She gives me a look. I know she hates it when I try to make light of things. And she doesn't let me get away with it. For months now, she's been making me face all the things I've wanted to bury and ignore. She says that bringing Charlie over here was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and I'm sure it was … but that doesn't mean that she didn't see this as an opportunity to help me along in the healing process. Exposure, right? That's how to conquer your fears. Not that I'm exactly afraid of babies, but …

"Sorry," I say, clearing my throat and getting serious. "But the baby stuff _is_ all gone."

"I guess I know that," she snaps.

Well, of course she does. She was the one who was there the day that I finally opened up the door to reveal the room filled with all the baby things that I'd hastily packed away. All the opened and unopened gifts. All the tiny little outfits. Every last piece of furniture and equipment. And it was Abby who was there beside me, packing up the boxes, helping me dismantle the crib. She was the one who had the idea to take it all to the crisis nursery -- an emergency children's shelter where it would all get put to good use. It was only after it was all taken care of that she finally let herself cry with me. But in the end, I think she cried more than I did that day. Sometimes I think she feels this grief even more acutely than I do. But then she has a soft spot for babies … and parents, too, I suppose. Especially when they are in need. I heard all about her rise to stardom during her NICU rotation, and I've seen her compassion for parents and children in crisis firsthand more often that I can count. And, in fact, the first time I ever really talked to her, she mentioned the tragedy she'd seen in OB with moms and babies. This should come as no surprise to me since it was one of the first things I knew about her … one of the first things that gave me an indication of who she is. Watching her now with Charlie, I see her love for and ease with babies even more clearly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She demands, finally tearing her eyes from the baby and looking at me. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped, okay? I just don't want … I mean, I just don't think you should … some things aren't meant to be joked about, that's all."

"I know. You're right." She nods in acknowledgement, and the conversation is suspended while we both make faces and ramble nonsense at Charlie. "You never said if Charlie's sleeping over or not," I say to Abby.

"Oh. No. Susan's off at midnight." She pauses, and I watch as a thoughtful expression crosses her face. "But I suppose Charlie probably goes to bed before midnight. Where are you gonna sleep, huh Char? Aunt Abby didn't think this through, did she?" Abby's shaking her head at the baby who has a good fistful of her hair. Abby just laughs when that fistful of hair ends up in Charlie's mouth.

"I guess there's always the floor. Or the bed … we could put a bunch of pillows around the outside."

"The carseat!" Abby declares triumphantly. I look around, but I don't see it anywhere. "I left it in the car. I just took the baby out of it because …" she pauses and looks back to the baby, her cooing face turning her features soft as she slips into baby-talk. "Charlie was getting fussy, weren't you, Charlie?"

"You want me to go get it?" I ask since Abby's gotten comfortable on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table while she slouches down against the back of the couch. The baby is standing up on her lap, facing her and busily trying to suck on anything within reach … namely Abby's chin at the moment.

"That would be good," Abby says barely moving her jaw in deference to the baby that's attached to it. "Keys?" she calls just about the time I get to the door.

"Keys. That would help." She extracts them from somewhere and tosses them over her head to me. I see Charlie's little face come to into view .. I guess the arc of the keys flying across the room was intriguing. I smile at the baby and wave … and Charlie immediately bursts into tears.

"What's wrong?" I watch Abby pull the baby away from her shoulder and settle Charlie into the crook of her arm before I run out and retrieve the baby seat. By the time I get back, all is quiet again. But Abby and the baby are no longer on the couch.

"Ab?"

"Down here." I walk around the couch and find Abby and Charlie on the floor. Abby's pushed the coffee table out of the way and spread a blanket on the floor. And I could have sworn I was gone for less than a minute.

"You really don't need my help, huh?"

"Nope. But … it's more fun with two of us." She pats the blanket next to her, clearly issuing an invitation.

I settle in with them, and for a while Abby and I act as goofy and silly as we can, trying to coax smiles from the baby. Charlie invariably grins at Abby, mostly ignores me, and seems to have a great time trying to mouth a variety of soft toys. Eventually though, the baby must tire of this game, and begins to fuss. Naturally, Abby scoops the baby up before I even realize that the fussing is escalating to full-blown crying. I'm about to ask some dumb question about what's wrong with the baby when Abby answers it for me.

"It's dinner time, isn't it, Charlie?"

Dinner. Sounds good. I'm hungry. "What are we having?"

"Hmm … I believe mushed up peaches and formula is on the menu."

"Appetizing as that sounds, maybe we should order a pizza."

"I think Charlie's a little young for pizza."

"Yeah, but we're not. And believe me, there's nothing in the fridge to eat."

"Okay. Want me to call while I heat up Charlie's bottle? What do you want?" She asks, while bouncing the baby on her hip, trying to get Charlie to take the pacifier.

"I don't care. Whatever you want."

"Okay. I'll be right back then," she says. And then she holds the baby out to me. I take Charlie, and we watch Abby disappear into the kitchen. Charlie looks at me and starts to wail. My first thought is to follow Abby to the kitchen. But then she seems able to handle the baby without my help, I guess I should be able to do the same.

"It's okay, Charlie," I say in what I hope is a baby-friendly voice. "Don't cry. Uncle John's here. I've got you." This doesn't seem to instill any confidence in Charlie who just cries harder. So I figure my choices are to sit here and watch the baby cry or to get up and try to do something to stop the crying. Okay, we'll see what we can do to calm down the baby. I try walking. I try jiggling. Bouncing, rocking, singing … none of it seems to work. Charlie's cries have turned to screams. Where the hell did Abby disappear to? Did she run out the back door? She must hear the baby crying … so what's taking her so long? She's probably in the kitchen laughing her ass off at me.

"Abby?" I call. No response. I wait through a couple more minutes of crying. I try reasoning with the baby. I try shaking rattles in Charlie's face. That doesn't work … which I can't say surprises me. If I were upset I don't think I'd want some fuzzy, rattling thing being shoved at me either. "_Abby?_" I'm sure I sound more desperate this time.

"Sorry," she says, rushing out of the kitchen, bottle in one hand, container of food in the other.

"What took you so long?" I ask, handing over a wailing Charlie.

"The pizza place put me on hold. Hey, what's wrong, baby? What did Uncle John do to you?" I watch as she cradles Charlie in her arms and with a few coos and cuddles and a little swaying back and forth, the baby magically stops crying. Or at least settles down to a more fussy, hiccupy cry. Abby holds the bottle up where the baby can see it, and Charlie reaches for it, chubby little hands wrapping around the warm bottle. Abby settles on the couch to feed the baby, and I stand rooted to the spot, just staring at her.

"You're staring at me again," she says, glancing up from the baby to give me a coy little smile.

"I'm just … in awe."

"Of what?" she says, laughing at me.

"You. You're really good at this."

"Feeding the baby? It's not that hard. All I have to do is hold up the bottle."

"Not just feeding the baby. The whole baby thing." She shrugs. "You can't fool me. And you can't fool Charlie. The minute you walked out of the room, the baby started screaming and didn't stop, no matter what I did."

"I know. I heard. But that's because Charlie knows me better than you, that's all." She smiles down at the baby, and lightly strokes a little apple cheek, giving the baby a loving smile.

"It's more than that, Abby. You just … "

"What?" She looks at me with curiosity.

"I don't know. There's just something … you just have that mommy vibe."

"Mommy vibe?" She sounds slightly skeptical. Okay, a lot skeptical.

"Yeah."

"You haven't been putting together model airplanes today have you?"

"Model airplanes?"

"Yeah, and using the model glue in a small, enclosed, poorly-ventilated room?"

"I'm not high. And I'm not crazy. You are good at this. I think you missed your calling," I say, shaking a finger at her in jest.

"I should have been a baby nurse?" She snaps her fingers. "Oh, that's right … I was."

"Not exactly what I was thinking. But being such a natural must have made you a great 'baby nurse.'"

"Did you ever think that maybe being a baby nurse has made me a 'natural?'"

"No." I say that in my most sincere tone of voice because I mean it.

I have no doubt that Abby was born with this ability to nurture anyone, but especially children. For a long moment our eyes are locked together … and I'm reminded all over again about how all that's left unsaid can say so much. I don't know exactly what she's thinking, but looking at her with our best friend's baby in her arms and seeing how at ease she is and how happy she seems, suddenly I'm envisioning a whole world of new possibilities. I always knew Abby was great with kids in a professional setting, but this is different. This is like that moment when I first opened the door. A little taste of what might have been. A little taste of what could still be? I find myself somewhat breathless at the thought. Somehow I know she's thinking the same thing. Talk about an emotionally charged moment. I don't know what to say. I couldn't begin to figure out what words would be appropriate. Lucky thing we've never needed words. Even with nothing said, I know that in this moment there's been a subtle shift. We've just crossed some invisible line and somehow I know things are gonna be different from now on.

* * *

Just look away. I keep telling myself that, and yet somehow, I can't seem to pull my gaze from his. I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, but something is … of that much I'm sure. The very air around us is charged with an unidentifiable energy, and it feels like it's settling around me like a fog. I try to clear my head, but all this talk from Carter of my 'mommy vibe,' whatever the hell that is, and how good I am with babies has me kinda freaked out. Not necessarily in a bad way. Just in a totally surprised way. And put it together with the way he's looking at me right now … like there's something that he wants that only I can give him … well, I'm not entirely sure where to go with that. If it weren't for the baby in my arms, I'm not sure where this moment would take us, but I can feel my cheeks tinting pink at the mere thought of the possibilities. I didn't realize … I didn't know that this is what we were doing. I guess I should have known. 

But in all honesty, when I told Susan that we were just friends, I meant that. And technically … that's all we are. In all these months, things have been strictly platonic. And up until now he hasn't given me the slightest indication that he was looking for anything more than friendship. But that look in his eyes … I know it well. And it has to do with a lot more than friendship. And who am I kidding? My feelings for him are a lot more than friendly, too. I was willing to be friends, just friends, if that's what he wanted. I even thought that maybe that's all we were meant to be. And if it meant that I could be a part of his life, watch over him, help him be happy … well, then maybe that would be okay. The whole being just friends after being … well, more than friends thing has worked out fine with Luka and I … of course, it's different with John and I and always has been. Still, I thought if there was a way to be friends … well, maybe that was the best of both worlds. The fun, laughter, and companionship of being friends without the pain, fear, and risk that seemed to be so much a part of our … romantic relationship. Even if the romance was dead, I wanted the friendship back. I missed it. I missed him. And I kept telling myself that it was enough. And I kept hoping that someday I would believe that.

I didn't expect this to ever happen. Or then again, maybe I did. Of course, I remind myself, nothing has really happened. He's just looking at you. Okay, sure he's looking at me with a longing and hunger in his eyes that I've never seen before. And sure, there's a softness in his face … a wistful, hopeful look. And yes, he's looking at me with the same … affection and fondness that I used to see all the time when our relationship was still brand new. But maybe I'm imagining all of it. Maybe I'm reading more into a simple gaze than I should be. If this were anyone other than Carter … but it is Carter. And we've always had this ability to look into each other's eyes and know what the other is thinking. It's Carter, and so I know that I'm right. He still … what? Loves me? Needs me? Wants me? Is drawn to me? Yeah, maybe that's it … he's drawn to me still. What did Susan say? We're always spinning in each other's orbits? I guess that's a good way to put it. God knows my life doesn't seem quite right without him in it … at least in some capacity. I imagine it must be the same for him and that's why we always manage to find our way back to each other in one form or another. But … undeniable as all that may be, I'm still not sure what it means for us.

A sudden cry from Charlie breaks the spell and brings me back to the moment, making me suddenly all too well aware that there's a baby in my arms, needing my immediate attention. The baby fussing and squirming in my lap pulls me away from Carter's stare. I smile down at Charlie, who pushes the bottle away and starts crying in earnest.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Do you need to burp? Huh? Do you have a bubble in your belly?" I shift the baby onto my shoulder and begin a regimen of rubbing and patting to help coax out a burp. When I glance over at him, I find that Carter is lounging back against the couch with an amused smile on his face while he watches me with Charlie. I'm not even sure I want to think about what might be going through his head. Charlie lets out an enormous burp, and my attention turns to the baby once again.

"Did anything come out?" I ask John.

He peers over at my shoulder. "Nope, you're spit-up free."

"Good. Hey Charlie, now that you made some room, you wanna try some of your nasty mashed up peaches? What do you think?"

"_I_ think you probably shouldn't describe the baby's food as nasty. That's hardly gonna wanna make Charlie eat it."

"I'm sorry. Charlie, do you wanna try some of your nasty-looking, but delicious-tasting smashed up peaches?"

"Well, that's better, I guess."

"So how are we gonna do this Charlie? I guess … we can put you in the carseat, huh? Can you find a bib?" I ask, gesturing toward the diaper bag.

"Me?"

"No, I thought maybe Charlie would root through the diaper bag and find a bib. Yeah, you."

"Oh, okay." As soon as he produces a bib, I hand him the baby so I can get the carseat and arrange it at the end of the coffee table.

"Well, can you put it on?" I ask with a chuckle when I notice he's just sitting there with the baby on his lap, holding the bib.

"I'll try. Nope, it won't fit." He's holding it up to his own chin, as if he's going to fasten it around his neck.

"Cute. But can you put it on the baby?"

"Some people just can't take a joke, Charlie."

"Isn't a joke supposed to be … funny?"

"Ha ha."

"Now see who can't take a joke?" I ask as I pick up the baby. Carter's managed to secure the bib, so I get Charlie settled into the carseat and then open up the container of baby food and stir it up with the tiny spoon. Charlie's looking at me with interest so I think this is gonna be easy. I load up the spoon and aim it toward Charlie's mouth, but before I can get it there, a flailing baby arm crashes into my hand and the spoon and its content go flying. The spoon bounces off my head and lands on the couch.

"You got some smashed-peaches goop in your hair," John helpfully points out.

"No shit, Sherlock." I reach up and try to wipe the gunk out of my hair.

"Abby … I don't think you should swear in front of Charlie. After all, this baby is just on loan. We don't own Charlie."

"So if Charlie were ours, the swearing would be okay?"

"Well, no … I'm not saying I'd want you swearing in front of our kids either, but at least then I wouldn't have to worry about the wrath of Susan when the first thing out of Charlie's mouth is a four-letter word."

"The first word most babies say is a four-letter word." I go back to trying to feed Charlie, studiously ignoring the implication behind those words … _our kids._ Without thinking, I almost responded, 'Oh, we're having kids now?' But I was afraid of opening up that door. I'm not ready for that one yet.

"What kind of babies do you know?" He asks, laughing at me.

"I just said that most babies say a four-letter word, I didn't say it was a cuss word. _Dada_ is four-letter word."

"Okay, good point."

"This isn't working. Charlie's squirming around too much and I'm getting more _on_ the baby than in the baby."

"Not to mention on you. But it's a good look for you. You should wear strained fruit more often. Fruit works for you." I catch myself wondering if that is some sort of double entendre. And then I kick myself for thinking that way. Is this how it's gonna be now? Stop it, Abby; he was just making another dumb joke.

"Be that as it may, I think that the object of feeding the baby is to actually get some food in the baby, not all over me."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Well," I say, as I take Charlie out of the carseat, "Do you want to spoon or hold?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I hear how they sound and find my cheeks tinting. Oh God, now is everything I say going to sound like it has some double meaning?

Luckily enough, Carter's mind must not be as far in the gutter as mine because he doesn't seem to notice anything amiss. "I guess I'll spoon. Holding could be a messy job and since you're already a mess …"

"Gee, thanks."

"Besides, Charlie likes you better. The baby would probably prefer that you're the one doing the holding. And maybe if I'm doing the feeding, Charlie will decide to like me, after all."

"Charlie likes you. Sometimes they just need a little time to warm up."

"Who?"

"Babies."

"Oh. See … I told you you're good at this whole baby thing."

"Only I couldn't manage to feed the baby," I say, settling Charlie into the crook of my arm and pinning down the fidgety arms and legs so that John can spoon in the food unimpeded. Things go much more smoothly with two of us on the job. Charlie finishes the peaches and what was left in the bottle and then produces a satisfied burp.

"What now?"

"I don't know," I shrug. "Probably a diaper change.'

"And then?"

"I don't know. Whatever babies do. Play, I guess. Chew on things. Spit up."

"I'm okay with the playing and chewing, but I'm not gonna spit up."

"Good to know. Wanna help me change a diaper?"

"I'd love to." That's a debatable statement, but he does help, and together we manage to get Charlie changed. Then we all move to the floor for some playing and chewing and spitting up. John and I watch with excitement as Charlie pushes up on all fours, and then share a disappointed sigh when the baby flops back down to lay on the blanket and rest.

"Are you trying to figure out how to crawl?" John asks the baby who is now busy trying to eat my keys. "Isn't it too early?"

"For Charlie to be crawling? No, not necessarily. A little early, but all babies are different. Besides, if you didn't notice, Charlie doesn't quite have it down yet."

"Well, everybody needs a little help now and then. Maybe we should show Charlie how it's done." With that, he proceeds to help Charlie back up to all fours and then demonstrate crawling. "C'mon, Abby. Show Charlie how to crawl."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"You never know. C'mon, give it a shot."

I give him a dubious look, but in the end I start crawling around too. What the hell. At least no one is here to see me making a jackass of myself. Well, except Charlie who watches us with what I swear is a bemused look very reminiscent of Susan. Oddly enough, John and I crawling around the room in circle like we are in a very weird conga line doesn't inspire Charlie to get up and crawl. And luckily, after a few minutes of following Carter around on my hands and knees, I'm quite relieved to hear the doorbell. I spring up right away and run to get the door. Of course, it's only after I've opened the door to the pizza guy that I realize that I have no money in my hand. Now where did my bag get off to? I have no idea. But since John's jacket is hanging here in the hallway, I decide that seems like a good source of funds. Sure enough, I strike gold in the inside pocket. I return to the living room with a piping hot pizza in my hands. Carter, with the baby in his arms, is giving me a look.

"What's mine is yours, huh? I mean, just make yourself at home, rifling through my clothes and taking my money."

"I already did. Besides, you're always trying to pay for dinner. And I didn't know where my bag was."

"Convenient excuse."

"I thought so. How about you get the baby settled with some toys, and I'll get us some drinks?"

When I return from the kitchen, the baby is happily playing on the blanket so Carter and I take the opportunity to dig right in. The pizza is almost gone when John turns to me and says, "This is kinda fun, huh?"

I look down at the baby whose antics have been keeping us amused while we eat. "Yeah."

"I could get used to this."

"Pizza and root beer? I would think you'd be used to it by now."

"I wasn't talking about the pizza." He's giving me another one of those looks that I could so easily get sucked into. I busy myself peeling a piece of pepperoni from the top of my pizza. When I refuse to look at him, he goes on. "You, me. Just sitting at home on a Friday, watching the baby."

"So you want to do more baby-sitting? I'm sure Susan will be thrilled." I know that's not what he's getting at, but I'm not sure this is the time for this particular conversation. Besides, I think maybe this is the sort of thing we should ease into.

"Sure, that would be a good start." He takes my hand in his. Not an unheard of gesture these past few months, but why does it feel different all of the sudden? "Practice makes perfect, after all."

"John …"

"Abby, what are we doing?"

"Well, we're baby-sitting for one thing."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"I know. I just meant that … maybe now's not the time." I get up and go pick up Charlie who has grown tired of staring up at the ceiling. I sit back down with the baby on my lap and pick up the little hands, playing a little patty-cake somewhat absent-mindedly.

"Sometimes now is all you have. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that time is … precious. And I'm tired of wasting it."

"I understand. But …"

"What?"

"It's just all so sudden, you know?"

"Sudden? It's been months."

"Months?" To the best of my knowledge, this isn't something that we've been discussing for months.

"Sure, these past couple of months that we've spent … rebuilding … us."

"Is that what we're doing?"

"No, don't do that, Abby. You know better than that." Okay, so maybe I do. Maybe all along, somewhere in the back of my mind, I've expected that this day would come. But that doesn't mean that I have the foggiest idea of what to do about it now.

"We're friends."

"Yeah, we are. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you. You've given me the kind of support that I've never really expected to get from anyone. And the way you've been there … well, it's made me realize how stupid I was, and that I don't want to lose you ever again. I know … I know I messed up with you. And I understand if you don't want … if you can't give me another chance. I don't know if I would give me another chance. Of course, in a way, I guess, you already have. I mean, you didn't have to befriend me again. And I'm grateful just to have your friendship. And if that's all I can ever have …" He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, but … well, it just seems like if you see a chance for a new beginning, some hope for a light at the end of the tunnel … well, you shouldn't let fear stop you from reaching out and grabbing it."

"Sometimes you reach out, but all you get for your trouble is your finger bit off. And when all is said and done, you're left with nothing but pain and a wound that won't heal."

"Is that what I am to you?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's hard … being your friend."

"Then why do you do it?"

And that's the million dollar question right there. Why _do_ I do it? "Because … because you can't always control your feelings. When you care about someone and you see them hurting … I just wanted to make it better. I knew you needed someone. I thought maybe I could be that someone."

"Even though it was like tearing open the wound."

"It wasn't that bad. And it's okay now. But at first it was kinda rough."

"But you did it anyway."

"Yeah, well …" I shrug as I plant a kiss on the top of Charlie's downy little head. I don't know if the baby senses the seriousness of the discussion that's going on or if it's just that it's getting close to bedtime, but Charlie is extremely quiet, happily resting in my arms working on a pacifier.

"This is what amazes me about you. I don't know how you could put aside your own pain to comfort me … not after the way I treated you. Not after the way I came back here and … rubbed your nose in it. I didn't mean for it to be like that. I didn't think about how it would be for you. But I wasn't thinking much, period, then. But now, knowing how it must have been for you … it makes me cringe just thinking about it. It couldn't have been easy … watching me flaunt my instant family."

"Actually, that wasn't so bad. I mean, yeah, it wasn't great. A little wounded pride. A lot of jealousy. But, at the same time … somehow … I was happy. Because you were happy. Or I thought you were, anyway. And that's what I really wanted. I knew that you'd been unhappy for so long … and I thought if Kem could give you what I couldn't … well, that's what I wanted for you. Someone who could give you the things you want."

"You were jealous?"

"Well … yeah. It's not easy watching someone else and thinking that they're living the life that was almost yours. You having someone new was one thing, but then there was the baby … that was a little harder to get used to. But I knew that was one of things you wanted. And if you could have the life that you wanted with her … well, I just told myself that it was for the best. You and I gave it a shot, and it didn't work out. So we'd go our separate ways. I guess I just thought we'd be a little more separate. I was doing fine while you were gone."

"But then I came back."

"Yeah."

"That couldn't have been easy for you."

"No. But I _was_ happy … for you."

"Too bad I wasn't."

"You weren't?" I ask, surprised. This isn't something we've talked about much.

"I tried to be. I thought maybe I would be … someday. But then this guaranteed family that I thought I'd secured for myself fell apart … and who was there? You. I'm still trying to figure out what I did to deserve that."

"I'm sure I still owed you a couple. But that's not what it was about."

"I know that. And I know that I hurt you. And I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make up for everything I put you through … and I know that you may not be willing to take another chance on us. It's a risk. But without risk, there's no reward. And there are never any guarantees, no matter how much you may want them. I know that now. So I don't know if it would work this time, but I think it might. I think maybe we're ready. This past year has taught me things I never wanted to know, but that I probably needed to learn. And I like to think that I've grown up some because of it. And you … well, you were always amazing, but you've really … blossomed and become an even more incredible person. You're still my Abby, but a little more …"

"Sane?" I suggest.

"Comfortable."

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah. With yourself. With your life. You don't seem to be struggling so much anymore. And all the things that I worried about … all the things that planted little seeds of doubt in my head … I know I don't have to worry about them anymore. And as it turns out, you weren't the one I should have been worrying about in the first place."

"I don't know about that. I was pretty messed up."

"And so was I. But you're not anymore. And I'm getting there."

"Well …"

"I think we're both getting better. Growing."

"Yeah."

"And the one last little thing that I was worried about … well, watching you with Charlie … not just tonight, but every day since this baby was born … it's always Charlie this and Charlie that, and I see how much you love this baby and how good you are at this whole thing … Well, between that and this new risk-taking attitude of yours, I don't think I have anything left to worry about."

He's giving me another one of those expectant looks. I know he's hoping I'll give him confirmation of what he is so hoping is true. But I'm not sure if I can do that. Not yet. So I choose to focus on something else. "What risk-taking attitude?"

He smiles. He knows what I'm doing, but he lets me do it. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You mean going back to med school?"

"Well, that's part of it. But not all of it. You just don't seem so … cautious these days. It's a good thing, I think."

"I guess," I say with a shrug.

"I'm hoping it'll work in my favor."

I smile at that, but instead of looking at John, I look down at the baby. "Charlie, you look tired. I think we should get you ready for bed, huh? Are you sleepy? You wanna go night-night?"

"Okay," John says to me. I know he means he's willing to drop it, at least for now. I give him a little nod to show that I understand. "Let's put Charlie to bed."

"How about if you do the PJ's, and I'll go warm up a bottle?"

"Hmm … somehow I think you're just trying to get me to do the diaper thing."

"Maybe."

"Sneaky."

"Thanks," I say as I make my way to the kitchen. I heat up the bottle and make sure to shake it up and test the temperature before I take it back to John and Charlie. I find them on the couch where I left them, only now the baby is in a footy sleeper, happily chewing on Carter's finger. And the lights in the room have been turned down, everything feeling very calm and cozy.

"Charlie didn't cry this time," I point out, smiling at the two of them.

"Nope."

"So you guys are buddies now? See? That didn't take long. I guess you have a way with a babies, too." He just shrugs and smiles down at Charlie. I hold out the bottle to him. "You want a turn?"

"Yeah?"

"Sure. I don't think the baby will mind. Charlie looks pretty comfortable with you now." And in fact, all it takes is for Charlie to catch sight of the bottle. Immediately the baby leans back into Carter's arms, settling in for a bedtime snack.

There's something about a man with a baby in his arms like this. I don't know what it is, exactly. It's not like John wasn't holding Charlie earlier, but now that he's feeding the baby … it's just different. There's a … tenderness on his face as he watches the baby in his arms. And I can't seem to take my eyes off them. Is this what he was feeling when he was staring at me earlier? He looks so at ease holding a baby, like he was always meant to do this. I'm caught off guard by the wave of sadness that washes over me. Sometimes life just isn't fair. Stop it, I order myself. He's isn't sitting here feeling sorry for himself, so I can't let myself fall into that trap. He seems to be enjoying spending time with Charlie; he's not dwelling on what might have been. Plus, I remind myself, I wouldn't be here now … if the baby had lived. He'd have a different life, one where I would only be on the sidelines. Still, it's a hell of a price to pay. Especially when he would have been such a good dad, and would have loved fatherhood so much. It doesn't seem right that he should be denied something that would have suited him so perfectly. Of course, just because he's not a father right now, doesn't mean he won't ever be. And if you believe that everything happens for reason …

"What's wrong?" John asks in a whisper in deference to the dozing baby in his arms.

I take a quick swipe at the tear rolling down my cheek, wishing he wouldn't have noticed. "Nothing."

"Abby …"

I shake my head. I'm not gonna talk about it right now. "I think the baby's asleep." The bottle is empty and Charlie appears to be very relaxed.

"Yeah," he nods. For a while, we just sit there in silence, watching the baby sleep in John's arms.

"Aren't your arms getting tired?" I ask after a while.

"Yeah, kinda. I guess maybe I should put Charlie in the carseat, huh?"

"That would be up to you." He looks a little reluctant, but gets up and moves over to the carseat where he gets the baby settled. He carefully covers a sleeping Charlie with a blanket, and then pauses with his hand resting lightly on the baby's head. Even in the soft light of the room with John standing in the shadows, I can see the melancholy smile that is etched on his face.

"You're gonna make such a great father."

He quickly turns and looks at me, the smile on his face turning more wistful. "I hope so." He shrugs, denoting some doubt that it'll ever happen.

"You will. You'll be terrific. And I know it's hard to imagine now, but someday … you _will_ be a father."

"I don't know." Another shrug as he looks down at Charlie again, then lets his hand trail down over the baby's arm and leg, before he finally wanders back to the couch and takes his place next to me. "Maybe someday."

"Definitely someday. You will be." He's giving me a skeptical look, clearly not convinced. I take his hand in mine, looking first at our clasped-together hands, and then looking up at his face, waiting for him to meet my gaze. I'm biting my lip in nervousness, but I'm going to say it. I have to say it. "At least … at least you will be … if I have anything to say about it."


	2. Crossing the Rubicon

Title: mesh

Author: Andrea

Rating: R

Summary: Abby and Carter … planning a future. Together.

Special Author's Note: Before I say anything else, I'd like to mention something very important to me. I AM SPOILER FREE. I know that new spoilers for season 11 are out or will be soon. But PLEASE, I am begging you, PLEASE DO NOT MENTION OR ALLUDE TO SPOILERS OR FUTURE EVENTS ON THE SHOW IN REVIEWS OR E-MAILS. I've taken great pains, and given up a lot of online activities, in order to avoid spoilers and the heartache they bring me. So please keep them to yourself. And please don't even mention how spoilers have made you feel for that is a huge clue to me, of course. If something has depressed you or elated you so much that you can't keep it in check long enough to leave a review … please don't review. I'm serious. I don't want to know. Nothing. I want to be able to hope for the best each and every episode. So please don't point out how something I'm writing doesn't fit with spoilers. Please don't up and mention spoilers for no reason. Please don't tell me how the spoilers are driving you to drink or making you laugh with glee. Spoiler free zone, please. There are 50 million other places to discuss, commiserate, or celebrate what the spoilers seem to claim will happen … please leave them out of reviews. My fics are spoiler free and based only my own imagination … what I'd like to see happen or think might happen or just what I want to speculate about. So let's leave keep the reviews pertaining to the fics, please, without bringing in future spoiled events. Thank you in advance. I just wanted to say something now before it was already too late. And believe me, if people can't honor this request, I'll just stop posting. That's how serious I am about not being spoiler. Thanks for your cooperation.

Usual Author's Note: Thanks to my team of editors. This time props are going out to LISA, COURTNEY, HEATHER, and KELLY. Thanks, dudes! Oh, and a little warning about this chapter: it's long and very wordy (hey, Court). So if you read it, you run the risk of being bored. But then, if you aren't really into these long, detailed, Carby epics, you might not want to bother anyway. I guess you could say this is for the truly devoted. Okay, don't say you weren't warned. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**mesh**

Chapter 2: Crossing the Rubicon

Did she just say what I think she said? I'll be a father someday if she has anything to say about it? What the hell does that mean? Was that … I mean, is she … is that some sort of offer? I can't believe she just said that. I mean, I was hoping she might give me some idea of where she stands on the issue of children, but I didn't quite expect it to come out like this. Wait a minute, I tell myself … maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe she's not really offering to have my baby, maybe she's just speaking in generalities. Maybe she just means she's gonna do her best to see to it that fatherhood is in my future. But in what way does she intend to do that, exactly? Maybe she just wants to set me up with some friend of hers who has a biological clock with alarm bells ringing and that's how she intends to make sure I get another chance at fatherhood. But wait, wouldn't the best way for her to ensure that it happens be for _her_ to have my baby? And weren't we just discussing a reconciliation? Well, I was, but maybe she didn't realize how serious I am about it. So if she's actually making an offer … what does that mean? Is she envisioning us being together as part of a happy little family? Or, as my friend, is she just offering to give me a child, if that's what it takes to make me happy?

I look over at her as she's nervously biting her lip, and see the way she keeps quickly glancing away every time we make eye contact. I decide that whatever it is that she's offering, it must be personal. I don't suppose she has someone else's biological clock in mind. So does that mean … no, I can't imagine she'd just be putting it out there like this. I don't even know for sure that she wants to get back together. And maybe she doesn't. But then again, maybe all these months she's just been waiting for me to make some move, to let her know that I'm ready. My head is spinning. My thoughts are all in a whirl, and I can't even begin to figure out what to say in response. I look down, for a long moment, at our hands still clasped together. When I look back up and meet Abby's gaze, I see that she's screwed up her courage. She's looking right at me. A deep, penetrating look that makes me think she's trying to see inside my very soul.

"Aren't you going to say something?" She asks, giving me a small, apprehensive, but hopeful smile.

"Uh …"

"That's a good start. But I think you can do better."

"I don't know what to say, Abby."

"Oh," she says, her voice oddly flat. Her face becomes expressionless before the tears start to gather in her eyes. I see the look of hurt disappointment flash across her face before she blinks away the tears and pastes a smile back on. She pulls her hand out of mine. "Okay. Never mind I shouldn't have said anything. I don't know why I did. It's too soon. I knew I wasn't ready for this conversation, anyway. I … I'm sorry." She looks away, staring straight ahead as if she's terribly interested in the wall. I hurt her feelings. Again. Somehow I made her think that I wouldn't want … But how could she possibly think that I wouldn't want her as the mother of my children? Well, you dope, what reason have you given her to think that you would?

"Abby," I say gently, reaching out and taking her hand, holding it tight and not letting her pull away. "I don't know what to say only because I'm not quite sure what you meant. I mean, was that an … offer?"

"Not if you don't want it to be." She doesn't look at me, but she's not trying to pull her hand away, either.

"No, I do want it to be. I think. I mean, if you're offering what I think you're offering. What exactly _are you_ offering."

She swivels her head around and looks at me. Dead serious. "You know." Her eyes search my face, presumably looking for some sign from me. I'm not sure she's going to say anything more, but I wait. I want her to say it. I need her to say it. I need to know exactly what we're talking about. And I don't want to take a wild guess. Okay, maybe it would be a not-so-wild guess, but still … I don't want to scare her off, if it turns out we're not on the same page after all.

"Abby?"

Big sigh. The nervous chewing on her lip. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and unsure. "We … could have a baby."

"We could," I say slowly. It's a statement, not a question.

"Of course, we _could_. I mean, I assume we could. We do have the requisite parts."

"And we know how to use them." She just looks at me. Okay, bad time for a joke.

"I meant, I'd be willing. Not just willing, but …" She trails off and takes a breath. Gives me a small, shaky smile. "If you want to. You know, someday. When you're ready. When we're ready."

"When we're ready. So we'd being doing it … together?" I ask, still trying to figure out exactly what she's thinking.

"Well, we'd have to do it together … that's the only way it works."

"That's not what I meant. I meant, would it be you and I …"

"Well, it won't be me and Frank." The grin on her face is suddenly replaced by a serious, sincere expression. "It's you that I want to see become a father." A little smile plays on her lips as her voice drops down to almost a whisper, "I want to be the one to make you a father." She looks almost embarrassed to have admitted that. There's a certain reluctance behind the smile, like maybe she's wishing we weren't having this conversation. She takes a deep breath and turns her body more toward me apparently deciding to admit something else. "Besides, I'd want the best for my kids. Especially when it comes to their father." The way she's looking deeply into my eyes and resting her free hand on my knee, I'm going to go ahead and assume that she's talking about me.

"So there would be an … us?" I'm still trying to catch up here. I can't quite believe all the sudden revelations. I haven't managed to grasp it all just yet. One minute we're friends. The next minute I'm dropping the let's-get-back-together bomb on her in a vague and unsure way, hoping not to scare her off. And now, instead of running screaming from the room the way I feared she might, here she is telling me that she wants to have my baby. Wow. Major wow. I understand what's being said. I believe that she means it. But it's hard to understand something that seems so unbelievable. Wonderful, but unbelievable.

"Isn't that what you want?" Her voice is soft and apprehensive, worried.

She's been incredibly open and honest with me, I guess I owe her the whole truth. "Of course, it's what I want. More than anything. But I wasn't sure if it was what you wanted."

She laughs. "It better be what I want since I just offered to have your baby."

"Well," I start, feeling a smile turning up the corners of my mouth, "I wasn't sure that meant you wanted us to get back together."

"It'd be pretty hard to get pregnant if we didn't."

"I thought maybe … you know, you were just offering to … have a baby for me."

"What? Like a … 'womb for rent?' " She giggles, apparently finding herself pretty amusing.

"Abby," I groan at her play on words.

"Is that really what you thought?"

"Well, I didn't know. I thought it was possible. Or that maybe … you know, you just wanted to go halvsies on a baby. You know, just as friends."

"Oh." She has a speculative look on her face.

"What? Does that sound like a better deal to you?"

"I was just thinking of how that would work. I don't think it would work very well." Her voice has gotten lower, a little bit husky. And I know that look in her eye. She leans in closer to me. "I mean, if we were just friends, I probably couldn't … do … this."

And then her lips are on mine. I close my eyes and feel how soft and smooth they are against my own lips. I feel the shudder of electricity that runs up my spine. Nothing has changed. It's still there. She's still my Abby, and I'd know the touch of her lips anywhere. This is a soft, gentle kiss, very much like the first one we ever shared. She pulls away all too quickly. She's giving me a smile that shows off just how pleased she is with herself. I can't help but smile back.

"So does this mean we're officially back together?" I ask, slipping my arms around her waist.

She drapes her arms over my shoulders. "Hmm … well," she looks like she's considering the question. "I guess getting back together _would be_ the logical first step."

"Don't let me twist your arm."

"Well, if it's gonna be _official_ … I guess that means we'd have to … seal the deal, right?"

"Like, with a kiss?"

"Oh, I was thinking about something more than just a kiss," she says, her fingers idly running through the hair at the nape of my neck.

"We don't have to rush into anything, Abby. There's no reason we can't take it slow."

She looks a little taken aback at that statement. "I think I'm insulted," she says, but her tone is light and playful. A cute, flirty smile settles on her lips. "I would have thought you would have jumped all over the chance. Besides, I thought you were the one who said you didn't want to waste any more time."

"Well, yeah. But something as serious as a baby --" She's laughing. Why is she laughing? "What?" I demand.

It takes her a minute to stop laughing long enough to answer me. "I wasn't talking about a baby."

"Oh." I stop and think for a minute. "What were you talking about?"

"Sex."

"Oh. Ooh," I repeat, not at all unhappy at the thought.

"I was just thinking that if it's gonna be official, we might need to … consummate things. But probably it would be best to wait …"

"Oh," I say, nodding. I had to go and put ideas into her head about taking things slowly, didn't I?

"Until we're alone," she says, nodding in the direction of Charlie, still sound asleep in the carseat. We both spend a moment watching the baby sleeping so peacefully just a few feet away.

"Speaking of babies … just out of curiosity, what kind of timeline were you thinking about on that one?"

"Well, I hear it takes nine months."

"Abby …"

"I don't know, John. It seems like we should probably take it one step at time. I wanted you to know … I mean, now that I know how much you want children … well, I just wanted to make sure that you knew that it's something that I want, too. But I think we should probably give ourselves some time. I know I'm not getting any younger. I don't want to waste a lot of time, either. But like you said, it's too important to rush right into. I guess we'll just wait until it feels like the right time. I don't know how long that'll be … but when it's right, I think we'll know. Unless… you had something else in mind?"

"No … no that sounds about right. We'll just see how things go. Of course, we've been down this road before so --"

"We have?" She raises her eyebrows at me.

"You know … being together. Being a couple."

"Being an us."

"Yeah. So I think that puts us ahead of the game. I mean, if we pick up where we left off …"

"But with a few notable improvements."

"Yeah."

"So you don't think it's too soon to be contemplating this?"

"This what?" I ask. "Getting back together or having kids?"

"Having kids. I think we're ready … I _hope_ we're ready to get back together. But that's the thing … it seems a little strange to be talking about giving our relationship another shot and then talking having a baby in the same breath. So I thought maybe it seemed too soon to you."

I gently run my hand up and down her back and give her my sincerest smile. "No, I think that was half the problem last time. There were a lot of things that we should have talked about sooner."

"There were a lot of things we should have talked about, period."

"You're right. And we won't make that mistake again. I think it's better to get these things out in the open right away. And besides, it's not like we just met yesterday. We've known each other for … forever. That's how it feels anyway. If it were anyone else but you, maybe I'd think we were getting ahead of ourselves, but Abby, we've already been through so much together. We have this …" I trail off, I can't quite think of how to say what I want to say.

"History," Abby supplies.

"Yeah. We already have the foundation … so no, I don't think it's unreasonable to be talking about having children … someday in the distant …" She cocks her head to the side, giving me an amused, but questioning look so I amend my statement, "Or not-so-distant future. It's all still theoretical right now, right? We're just figuring out where we stand so that we both know that we want the same things. These are the kinds of discussions that we should be having …"

I trail off again, thinking that there's something else that we should probably be discussing. But I'm hesitant to bring up the 'm' word. Oddly enough, considering that we're talking about the child we want to have together someday, I'm still worried that it might scare her. Maybe too much too soon. And maybe she doesn't even want that. Or maybe she thinks it's implied. And it really doesn't matter to me. I'd marry her tomorrow, but if she just wants to 'live in sin' for the rest of our lives, that's okay, too. So I guess it can wait. If she never agrees to marry me, it won't be a deal breaker. At this point, I don't think that anything really would be. Now that I know she wants to have children --with me-- I don't think much could change my mind. And even if _she _were to change her mind about kids, I could live with it. We'd figure something out together. I just know now that whatever the issue is, we need to work it out together. I realize suddenly that she's staring intently at me, and I'm a million miles away. I smile at her. "And I do love the idea of having some time for just the two of us. You know, get used to being together again, work out the kinks. A little time alone."

"It would be nice to have a little time alone now." There's that naughty little smile of hers again.

I glance at the clock. "Well, it won't be too long until Susan gets here. Just a couple of hours, probably. And what happened to wondering if it was too soon to be thinking about getting back together?"

A worried expression crosses her face. "You don't think it's too soon, do you? I thought that what you said earlier … well, I just assumed that it meant you _were_ ready. But if you're not … not yet … I'll wait."

"You'd wait?"

"Well, I've been waiting all this time, a little longer won't hurt. It might make me crazy, but I could stand it."

"You've been waiting all this time … for me?" I ask, surprised and touched.

"I didn't know until now what I was waiting for. If someone would have asked before tonight … a year ago, I would have known I was waiting to … get over you. And then, I was waiting to finish med school. Or waiting to adjust to being a doctor. I would have just said that I was too busy to be worrying about my social life. I had no idea that you were what I was waiting for. How could I? Certainly, there was a time when I thought that you and I were over for good. You'd moved on … and waiting for you then would have been pointless. But now … I know what it was I was really waiting for … even if it was without realizing that's what I was doing."

"I guess maybe there was a reason that you didn't …" I stop, not wanting to say something that could be misconstrued.

"Move on? Find someone new?"

"Maybe deep down you knew this would happen."

"How could I have known that? You'd made a life with someone else. You seemed perfectly happy."

"But you knew I wasn't."

"I wouldn't say I knew …"

"But you sensed it?"

"Maybe. I don't know. You just … on the surface you seemed happy, but … well, you didn't seem like yourself. And none of it fit with anything I thought I knew about you. But I wasn't about to question it."

"Well, maybe your subconscious knew better than you did."

"So some deep, innermost feeling that I wasn't even aware of kept me in a holding pattern, just waiting for you … even though it seemed like you were permanently off the market?" She sounds understandably skeptical.

"What's so crazy about that?"

"Well … John … you were having a baby with another woman. You were practically married."

"But I wasn't," I remind her, my eyes searching deep within hers. "Didn't you ever wonder about that?" She nods, but doesn't say anything more. Waiting, I guess, to see if I'm going to elaborate. "It was all … a mistake. It was all happening too fast, and I didn't want to compound it. If it had been you, I wouldn't have hesitated … I would have been begging you to marry me." That gets me a small, but pleased smile from Abby. Answer enough that marriage question? Maybe. At least for now. I don't mean to say anything more, but suddenly I found myself plowing ahead, "But with Kem … I couldn't. Something stopped me. I think I knew that it was never gonna work. That it never could work." I pull away from her abruptly, and stand up. I walk across the room and stare out the window to the quiet street in a cold, Chicago evening. I can see in the halo of light created by the street light that there's a breeze blowing a few brown, fallen leaves through the gutter. I try very hard to concentrate on what I'm seeing in front of me trying not to think. I should be happy. I've just found out that the thing I've wanted more than anything is within my grasp. I've got Abby back. We've got a future. One that includes children, something I never thought would be possible with Abby. It's like a dream come true, and I'm so happy. So then why do I feel so sad?

* * *

I watch him pull away from my embrace and walk across the room to stare out the windows. This isn't the first time since the baby's death and Kem's departure that I've seen him do this. As much as I've tried to be a shoulder for him to cry on, or at least lean on, there have been moments when he's closed up and turned inward. I know how solitary a thing grief can be. Sometimes no one else can begin to understand what you're feeling, and all you can do is look inside yourself for comfort. Still, I want to do what I can to help him. I watch him as he stands at the windows looking suddenly so sad. I'm not sure why. He was talking about how things wouldn't have worked with Kem. I don't know whether or not that's true, but he seems to believe it. I just don't know why that would make him so sad. Unless he misses her that much … but then why … A sudden thought pops into my head and makes my heart skip a beat: what if he's just settling for me? After all, I'm here. I'm convenient. I can give him a baby. Is that what made him decide that we should get back together? Am I just a means to an end? But no. No, he brought up a reconciliation before he even knew what my feelings were on the subject of having kids. And then there was that look in his eyes.

Okay, I figure I have two choices. I can fall back on my old ways and let my insecurities get the best of me. I can get pissed off and accuse him of thinking things that may not have ever occurred to him, but may only be bouncing around in my mind. Or I can try to act like a grown up, give him the benefit of the doubt, listen to what my instincts are telling me and go over there and try to comfort him in some way. The first way hasn't worked particularly well, so I guess I'd be wise to try something different.

I get up from the couch and move across the room to stand behind him. I wrap my arms around his chest, clasping my hands together, and turning my head to rest my cheek against his back.

"What's wrong?" I ask, trying for a sympathetic and understanding tone. His hands cover mine, and I feel him sigh. "Second thoughts?"

He immediately looks over his shoulder at me, his brow knit together in concern. "About you?" I shrug, and he turns around in my embrace so that he can wrap his arms around me and pull me close. "No, no of course not. It's not second thoughts. Certainly not about us. It's just …"

"Regrets?" I guess, knowing what that feels like.

"No, more like guilt."

"Guilt?" I ask, pulling back a bit so that I can look up at him.

He pulls out of our hug, but takes my hand. Wanting some space, but not wanting to severe the connection, completely, I guess.

"I feel guilty about the regrets that I don't have. Sometimes … sometimes I feel like I didn't do right by Kem. I made her a promise, you know. And I'm not sure how well I did at fulfilling that promise." I nod. Not so much because I follow what he's saying, but more because I know what it feels like to think you've let someone down. "But the thing is … with the way things have turned out … I can't say that I regret it. I can't say that I wish I could go back and do things differently. I can't even say that I wish things had turned out differently. But to be happy with the way things are now means …" He trails his off as his voice begins to break.

"It makes you feel … disloyal."

He quickly looks my way, the surprise showing in his eyes. "Yeah. When I'm happy, and I think to myself that I'm glad that things are the way they are … that I've got you back in my life … it makes me realize that it's only possible because he's not here. And it's almost like I'm glad he's not. He was just a baby. An innocent baby … and I … feel like it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, John. How could it be your fault?"

He shrugs and swipes at the tear in the corner of his eye. "Maybe I didn't want him enough. Maybe there was something I wanted more. I didn't think so then, but now …"

"You didn't do anything to cause his death. Nothing you did or said or thought … look, most first time parents are apprehensive and probably a little ambivalent. But any ambivalence on your part couldn't have caused it to happen. It was just a random accident. I know you know that. And there's nothing wrong with moving on. You have to. And it's okay to be happy. Even if your happiness comes from some possibility that may not have existed if he was here. Because you can't ever really know what would have happened if he'd lived. Maybe it would help if you thought about it like … I don't know … when one door closes, another one opens. Like some good will come from … not his death, but his existence. That he came into your life for a reason. And even though his death was a terrible tragedy, the mere fact of his existence will make your life better."

"Yeah. It just feels so … opportunistic. Or maybe just … wrong, somehow. There shouldn't be a silver lining to a baby's death."

"But there's a silver lining to everything, if you look for it. Even the biggest tragedy has something to teach us, something good to come from it. And we have to find the good; that's how we get by. And the truth is, you really can't feel guilty for your happiness, because it's not like it's a direct result of his death."

"It just feels that way. I mean, you have no idea how happy I am to have you back in my life. But then when I think that it's only possible because he's not here …"

"But that's not true. Okay, yeah, probably we wouldn't be here together now … but you don't know that for sure. If we were meant to find our way back together … it would have happened no matter what. Maybe it wouldn't have happened this soon, but … if you really believe that things wouldn't have worked for you and Kem … I don't know, maybe I would have still been hanging around, married to my career. Maybe we would have gotten our second chance later. I don't know … but if it's meant to be …"

"Why Abby Lockhart, are you suggesting that _fate_ may want us together?" He gives me a playful smile. He's teasing me, but that's okay. Whatever it takes to put a smile on his face.

"Well, I don't know. I guess. Maybe. If it makes you feel better …" I say that sincerely. Really, whatever he needs to believe, I'm willing to support.

"So maybe everything that happened … was supposed to happen?"

I'm not quite sure which answer he's looking for here. Would it be more comforting to think that a baby's a death was a random accident or the unkind hand of fate? "I don't know. Sometimes I think that fate and chance are battling it out … and we all just get stuck in the middle. If you're lucky, you find a time when they meet up together."

"I don't know if the idea that it was just a random chance makes me feel any better. But I hate to think that it was fate teaching me a lesson."

So that's why he's feeling responsible. "That's not what I meant. And I don't think that's how it works. But if you've learned something … well, at least maybe there's some meaning …" I stop talking because suddenly words seem so inadequate. I reach up brush the hair back from his forehead. I wish I knew a way to help him get through this. But I've learned the hard way that it just takes time. And even then … it's always with you in some small way. "The good news is … eventually? Eventually all this … grief makes the good stuff that much better. I know that's not much consolation …"

"Actually, it is." He catches the hand that's still brushing through his hair so that he can hold both my hands in his.

"I know it's not easy, but … sometimes it gets easier if you stop trying to figure out why and accept that it happened. In the end, the why doesn't always matter that much. It happened. Nothing you do will change that. Nothing will bring him back. But you owe it to yourself to be happy. And to him. Because if you put what he taught you to good use … then there is that meaning. It's not all for nothing. Even if it seems like an awfully steep price to pay. But _you_ don't ever have to worry that you caused it to happen. You didn't. Believe me. It was an accident, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it. At least that's something to hold on to. It's worse when you know that you're responsible. And that's something you can't get away from."

He's looking at me with curiosity now. I wanted to reassure him, but now I'm wondering if I've said too much. After all, this is about his struggles, not mine. "Abby? What … are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Best to leave it for another day. I'll tell him. I will. I want to. Well, maybe I don't exactly want to, but I know I need to. But not now.

"Are you talking about patients? Or a specific patient? Because you know we do our best … but sometimes there's nothing to be done."

"I know. We do what we can. It's not our fault if we lose them."

"No, it's not." I can hear the unasked question in his voice. I should have just let him think I was ruminating about a patient. I really don't want to get into this at the moment.

"Look, John, I …" Suddenly I'm interrupted by a cry from across the room. Saved by the baby. I give Carter an apologetic smile and untangle my hands from his so I can go tend to Charlie.

I look down at a wide-awake, squirming, squealing baby. Catching sight of me, Charlie just cries harder, little arms waving. I reach into the carseat and scoop the baby out, cradling Charlie in my arms. I find the pacifier and stick it in place, holding the baby tight against my chest while I walk in a bouncing step, patting the diapered bottom as I go. I hum a tuneless little song and soon Charlie quiets down. I watch as the tiny eyelids droop and Charlie drifts back off to sleep. Instead of putting the baby back in the carseat, I sit down on the couch with Charlie still in my arms.

"You're staring again," I say to Carter who is leaning against the wall, watching me and the baby. He gives me a smile and a shrug and crosses the room to sit down next to us. He idly brushes his fingers through Charlie's downy blond hair. "It kinda makes me nervous when you stare at us like that."

"Sorry. I can't help it. It's my natural inclination to stare at you. And then when you have a baby in your arms … And I must say, that was a pretty impressive display … the way you got Charlie back to sleep. It took less than ten minutes and you didn't even break out a bottle."

"Well, I'm good."

"My point at exactly. You've already got this whole baby thing down. You'll make a great mom."

"I'm glad you think so," I say, smiling down at Charlie, thinking that I certainly hope he's right.

"I do. Of course I do. Why do you think I want you as the mother of my children?" Good thing it's too dark in here for him to see the color that comes up in cheeks. "After all, I want someone who's good at it, so that the whole thing will be a snap." He gives me a playful grin.

"Shut up. You're not nice. And you're not funny."

"But you love me anyway."

I give him a long look, trying to decide how to play it. "Love you?" I ask with a snort, "I'm not even sure I like you."

"Hmm, well, that could be a problem since you're stuck with me now. Good thing I don't have any doubts about you."

"You don't?" Back to serious now.

"No, not a one. After everything you've done for me? And after the way I treated you … well, most people would have left me to sink or swim, but you've been keeping my head above water all this time. It's made me realize how truly incredible you are … not to mention how stupid I can be. So I have no doubts. And watching you tonight with Charlie has just made me that much more certain."

"So you just want me for my mommy skills? Take care of you, take care of the kids …" I say it in light tone because it's a joke. But, of course, there's more than a little seriousness behind it.

He seems to sense that there's more to it than just the joke. "Abby … of course not. If you want to know why I want you back … well, I could probably spend days listing the reasons, big and small. But it's not because I'm just looking at you as potential mommy material. It's because … you make me happy. You made me smile when I didn't think anything could. You make me laugh all the time. I feel like I can tell you anything. And we have fun. And we can sit on this couch for hours and not say a word and be perfectly comfortable. And we can look at each other and not say a word and know exactly what the other is thinking. And your personal attributes -- smart, funny, beautiful … sarcastic, cynical … but strong and resilient -- those don't hurt either. And yeah, the fact that you do have 'mommy skills,' as you called them, is part of it.

"Look, the way you've … taken care of me these past few months has reminded me of something that I knew about you, but forgot. You're a nurturer, Abby. I've known that since back when you were a brand new med student in the ER. It was one of the reasons that I was drawn to you to begin with. And later, ironically, it was one of the things that I held against you. But that was my insecurity shining through. I should have looked at the big picture. You have this need to take care of the people you love that are, themselves, in need. It's in your nature. It's who you are. And now I can't believe that I ever resented it. You took care of your brother, and I got mad at you … because I didn't understand. No, that's not true. I understood. I just didn't like it. I didn't realize that it wasn't a reflection on your feelings for me. He just needed you more than I did at that particular moment. And I'm sure that it'll happen again. Maybe with Maggie or Eric or maybe with work … or maybe with babies. But I know now that I don't have to feel … slighted. Because I know you'll be there when I really need you. The way you have that need to take care of … everyone might, occasionally, be a little hard for me to handle, but I know in the long run, that I'm going to reap the most reward. First for myself, and then someday … for my children. And I was a fool to ever wish that you'd be different. How could I have ever wished that you wouldn't care so much? After all, your nurturing side should be, and _now_ is, one of the very things that makes me love you."

"You love me?" The words pop out of my mouth before I realize what I'm saying. I feel my cheeks heating up, and I'm sure there's an expression of pure horror on my face. I mean, what if he didn't mean it like that?

"Yeah," he says, softly, nodding his head, the back of his hand lightly brushing along my cheek. "One of the things I've learned these past few months is … what love really is. And who it is that I really love. That I've loved all along. And that's you. I love you, Abby."

I stare into his eyes -- soft and serious, full of … love? We're locked in gaze for a long moment, and then we slowly begin gravitating towards each other, and I close my eyes in anticipation. His lips brush softly against mine in a slow kiss that becomes a serious of small kisses, our lips meeting and parting just to be pulled back together as if magnetized.

"John," I say quietly, in between kisses.

"Hmm…"

"Baby."

"What?"

"_The baby._" I stress, giggling a little, as I pull away and nod down at Charlie who is still asleep in my arms. It's a little awkward, trying to make out with a baby in between us. Not to mention, perhaps, slightly inappropriate.

"Oh. Here, let me," he says, gently lifting Charlie out of my arms. With just a minimum of complaint from the baby, John gets Charlie settled back in the carseat and then returns to sit on the couch with me. Immediately he slips his arms around me and pulls me close to him. He wastes no time covering my mouth with his own, and then quickly deepening the kiss. His tongue invades my mouth at about the same time his hand invades my shirt. I pull away from him abruptly.

"What?" He asks. I give him a 'what do you mean _what_?' look and then glance pointedly at Charlie, sleeping just a few feet away.

"We don't want to get to carried away with the baby here," I remind him.

"The baby's asleep."

"Still."

"We were just kissing, Abby."

"Sure. But one minute it's a little making out … then it's a little fooling around … and then … well, it's just better if we don't start. Not with the baby here."

"We could put the baby in the other room."

"Oh, sure. We'll just put Charlie, in the carseat, in the kitchen and leave the baby there all alone so that we can make out. That's great."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I don't know? How about just keeping our hands to ourselves for a little while?"

"Until Charlie goes home?"

"Yeah."

"You do know that Charlie's asleep, right?"

"Yeah … but I still feel like the baby is watching us. And that's a little creepy."

"Wait. I know." He gets up and rearranges Charlie so that the carseat and baby are facing away from us. Then he pulls up the attached hood, really enclosing Charlie within the seat. "Better?" He asks, attempting to resume his former position.

"I guess," I say. But then I place a warning hand on his chest. "Just so long as things don't get out of hand."

"They won't."

Of course, I have my doubts about that as he's already laying me back on the couch and covering my body with his. His lips find mine, and we fall into a deep kiss. The kissing is nice. Okay, the kissing is more than nice. The kissing is making my toes curl. Still, I'm mindful of the baby sleeping just a few feet away. That's why, when his hand slips back under my shirt, I push him away again.

"John." My no-nonsense voice.

"What?" He asks, the picture of innocence, moving in close again. His hand slides back under my shirt, tickling me as his fingertips brush lightly over my ribs.

"You know," I say, giggling even as I try to push his hand away.

"You want me to stop?" His lips land on my neck and then work their way up until he's nibbling on my earlobe.

"Umm…"

"Didn't think so," he says, slipping an arm around my back and pulling me closer to him. "You smell like peaches."

"That's what happens when a baby helpfully tries to condition your hair … with strained peaches."

"I like it. It's actually quite a turn-on."

"I think there may be something wrong with you."

"Uh-huh," he says, sounding as if he's in agreement, but really I think he's just not paying any attention to what I say. His hand is roaming around on my back, and then suddenly, fumbling with the clasp of my bra.

"_What_ are you doing?"

"Can we take this off?

"_No!_"

"No?"

"There's a baby in the room. I am _not_ taking off my shirt."

"Who said anything about your shirt? C'mon … the baby will never know."

"I don't think it's a good idea." So then why am I squirming around, shrugging out of the bra and then slipping it down my arm and out of one of the rolled-up sleeves of my blouse? Because I've clearly lost my mind, that's why. I don't know how he manages to do this to me. Although I don't know why it surprises me. After all, we started things out with him talking me out of my pants in the midst of a quarantine. Being willing to do it on a gurney in a trauma room is probably a good indication of his ability to drive me wild. Or maybe it's the fact that he always manages to get me into these compromising positions when it's been a really long time since I've been in any sort of compromising position. Whatever the reason, it's pretty much a guarantee that one look into those warm brown puppy-dog eyes or a few strategically placed kisses, and I'm putty in his hands. He knows exactly how to get to me, and he's not afraid to use that knowledge to it's fullest potential.

His hand is moving around under my shirt, finally finding a now-bare breast. My back arches up toward his hand, and I can feel him grinning against my neck. The hand that isn't busy under my shirt is slowly undoing the top buttons on my blouse while his lips move softly over the newly bare flesh. I can feel something hard pushed against my leg. Now it could be the tv remote. Or it could be a root beer bottle or one of Charlie's toys. But since I doubt that Carter would have stuck any of those things down his pants, I'm guessing it's something else. 'Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea' my mind is chanting loudly, if only inside my head. Too bad other parts of my body don't agree.

"Abby, you need to relax," he says, one finger tracing along the inside edge of my open collar. Need to relax? I thought I was relaxed. But now that he mentions it, maybe I am a little tense. I make a conscious effort to try and loosen up, but it's not easy when I feel like a teenager in the backseat of a car on lovers' lane, just waiting to be discovered. I can't quite seem to forget the baby parked on the coffee table across the room. I know Charlie's asleep, but still … of course when John pops open another button on my shirt and replaces his hand with his mouth, I kinda forget where I am for a minute. Until I hear the sound of a car door slamming outside. I push Carter off of me and struggle to sit up.

"Did you hear that?"

"What? I didn't hear anything," he says, trying to lay me back down on the couch.

"Stop." I sit up and look around. "I think I heard a car door. It's probably Susan."

He glances at the clock and then back at me. "It's too early. C'mon. Just relax." He's rubbing my shoulder with one hand, the other arm around my waist. He's clearly interested in encouraging me to return to our former position.

"Let me just check," I say, pulling away and crossing to the windows. "Oh, shit …"

"What?"

"_What? _What do you think? It's her." Already climbing the front steps. Great. "Pull yourself together."

He chuckles. "I think you need that advice more than I do."

"What?" I ask as the doorbell rings. He gives me a raised eyebrows look, and I glance down at myself. So my shirt's unbuttoned to the waist, my bra's missing, and I can only imagine the state of my hair. "Maybe you should get the door," I suggest, as the bell rings again.

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea."

"It's your house."

"Yeah, but … I wouldn't want to scare Susan." He glances down pointedly, shifting somewhat uncomfortably on the couch. "I think you better get the door."

"Ahh!" This is all his fault: it was all his idea. And now he's making me take the fall. How do I get myself into these things? I quickly do up a couple of buttons and run my fingers through my hair. By the time I get to the door, Susan is knocking rather insistently.

I take a deep breath and yank open the door. "Hi," I say, casual as can be.

"Oh, shit," Susan says, giving me a quick once over.

"What?"

"Gee, Abby, I don't know." I shrug my shoulders and give her a look like I have no idea what she's talking about.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick up my baby, remember?"

"You're early."

"You said I could come pick up Charlie any time. I got Luka to stick around and cover for me so I thought I'd come by and pick up the baby in case you two had something you'd rather do besides baby-sit. I just didn't think you would have gotten started on the 'something you'd rather do' already. I had no idea I'd be interrupting anything. Especially considering that my baby is here." She gives me a 'tsk, tsk, tsk' finger shake. When I keep giving her my innocent look, she doesn't say a word, she just turns her finger toward me, turning it into a pointing gesture. Back and forth right in front of my chest. Back and forth in front of my breasts. I look down. Even in the half light from the porch lamp, I can clearly see an outline of my hardened nipples through the thin material of my half-unbuttoned, rumpled shirt.

I cross my arms over my chest. "It's cold in here."

"Uh-huh. More like it's getting hot in here." She pushes past me into the house.

"What are you talking about?" When in doubt, play dumb. "We weren't doing anything." And then lie.

"Mm-hmm. So what's with the 'romantic lighting' in here then?"

"Charlie's sleeping."

"It doesn't have to be dark for Charlie to sleep," she points out, walking into the living room. "Hey, Carter."

"Hey." Fabulous. I get the third degree and he gets 'hey.' And then he doesn't even bother to help me out, just gives her 'hey' right back.

Susan glances over at the couch where Carter sits and then does a double take. "Christ, Abby! I thought you would have waited at least a few years to corrupt my kid." Now I see what she's looking at. A bra. My bra. Draped over the back of the couch. I give a Carter an 'I'm going to kill you' look. He looks befuddled. Susan slips a finger under one the straps and lifts the bra into the air, swinging it back and forth. "Care to explain this?"

"It fell off," I say, snatching it from her hands and wading it up in mine.

"You're pathetic. Not to mention some sort of … sex offenders."

"There was no sex. Just a little …" I trail off, idly running my fingers through my hair, scratching at my head, wondering if Carter is going to help me out at all here.

"It was just a little making out," he says, reading my mind, I guess. "And it was all my fault. I take full responsibility." He looks over at me, giving me a grin. "And just so you know … Charlie was asleep. And turned in the other direction."

"Gee, that makes it so much better." She leans over the carseat and peers at the sleeping baby. "What are they doing to you, huh baby? Poor little thing. I had no idea what you were going to be exposed to when I sent you over here. Aww … Mommy's sorry you had to be traumatized like this. Poor baby. See if we let _them_ baby-sit again, right?"

"Traumatized?" I ask.

"Yes!"

"Are you really upset about this? Because I'm … we're really sorry about it. Normally we wouldn't … I mean, I know it's not appropriate, it's just …" She's grinning at me as I bumble my way through the apology. "You're not upset about this at all, are you?"

"Nah, not really. To be honest, you could have had sex right there on the couch, and it wouldn't have even woken up the baby … no matter how loud Carter got."

"Hey! Abby …" Carter gives me a look.

"What?" A palms up gesture from me to denote my cluelessness.

"Anyway, I was saying … Charlie's just like Chuck. The kid sleeps through anything. And just between us … it wouldn't have been the first time Charlie was in the room while someone was having sex."

"That's disgusting," I tell her.

"Look who's talking," she shoots back.

"_We_ didn't have sex."

"Yeah, but Charlie's my kid. Besides, you don't know what it's like, trying to find two minutes to go to the bathroom, much less any kind of quality time alone when there's a baby in the house. If you had kids, you'd know what I'm talking about." Carter and I exchange a look. "Oh. God, I'm sorry. Stupid, stupid, stupid. John …"

"It's okay," he assures her. And I know he means that because the look we exchanged wasn't one of sadness or concern, but rather one of speculation and possibility. With a touch of 'I've got a secret' in sly smiles. "It's not what you think." I suppose he's referring to the look that we just shared.

Susan gives us a speculative look for a moment before turning to Carter. "So Abby was giving me some crap this afternoon about you two being 'just friends.' If that's true --"

"If?" I ask. What kind of friend thinks I would lie to her. Oh, wait … maybe I would lie to her. But just a little bit.

She glances at me, but otherwise ignores my outburst. "Am I to assume that the whole 'just friends' things is no longer the case?"

"Uh … well …" I stutter, knowing the answer, but not sure if I'm ready to say it out loud yet.

John doesn't seem to have any of those reservations. He reaches out and takes my hand. "Yeah, I think we kinda blew that out of the water tonight. Or we will, anyway."

"I can take a hint," Susan says. "Besides, we need to get you home, huh Charlie? Yeah, it's getting cold out there, we need to get you home and tucked into your nice warm bed." She adjusts the blanket around Charlie, making it a little more snug. And then takes a heavier blanket that she's carrying over her arm, and drapes it over the whole carseat. To keep the cold air off the baby, I guess. "Thanks a lot for baby-sitting, guys. You really saved me. I owe you."

"No, you don't," John tells her. "It was our pleasure. And …"

"You did us a favor," I finish for him.

"_We_ should be thanking _you_."

I nod in agreement. "Turns out having a baby around was just what we needed." I'm talking to Susan, but looking at John, giving him a warm smile as I lace my fingers through his.

Susan's brow furrows as she looks back and forth between us. "There's something going on here. Something's up with you two."

This would be a perfect opportunity for a dirty joke, but I decide to behave myself. "Yeah, I think we already established that."

"There's more to it than that, isn't there?"

"Gee, Susan … you look tired." I say in a pointed tone of voice.

"Okay. I'm going." She picks up the baby's carseat and starts toward the door. I drop Carter's hand and follow her. As soon as she thinks we are out of range, she turns to me with conspiratorial whisper, "But I want details tomorrow. ASAP." I roll my eyes as I open the door for her.

"Here, don't forget this," John says, suddenly standing behind me. He reaches around me to hand Susan the diaper bag.

"Thanks, I'd be lost without it. So I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow. If you can make it to work."

John drops his hands lightly on my shoulders. I'm not sure if it's a suggestive gesture or if he thinks he needs to restrain me.

"Good-_night_, Susan." I say, giving her a big fake smile.

"'Night."

"'Night," John calls over my head, raising one hand in a wave. And then he reaches past me and pushes the door closed. Before I know what's happening, he's spun me around and backed me up against the closed door. I don't even have time to murmur a protest before his lips descend upon mine. His hands move to my waist, and I drape my arms around his neck, falling into the kiss. But after a moment, I get the distinct feeling that we're being watched.

"What's wrong?" Carter asks, pulling back a bit.

I turn around in his embrace and peer out the window next to the door. "Go home," I enunciate carefully for Susan. She just looks at me, pretending she doesn't know what I said. So I reach out and open the door. "Wanna buy a ticket?" John drapes his arm over my shoulder and across my chest, resting his hand on my other shoulder and pinning my back to his chest. Definitely a possessive gesture. But comfortable. And oddly enough, I discover that I like it. I lay my cheek on his hand.

"Oh, I thought it was a free show."

"No, sorry." Carter pulls me a little closer, and I'm reminded, quite clearly, of what we started earlier. A very real reminder just happens to be poking me in the back. Guess he doesn't want me getting any ideas about having a long, drawn out conversation with Susan. "And … uh … sorry. But the show's sold out. Freak," I mumble just loud enough for her to hear.

"Hey, I'm just trying to be aware of what it is that my kid's watching. Since apparently Charlie got to see an episode of this show earlier."

"Well, we didn't let Charlie watch. And we're not gonna let you watch, either." I not-so-subtly start to push the door closed.

"Fine. I'm going. Good-night."

"Hey, Susan?" I call when she's halfway down the front walk.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anybody, okay?" She gives me a wave, and I shut the door, still peering out the window to watch her progress.

"Good job, Ab. Now she's gonna tell _everybody._"

"That's okay. I don't really care."

"Well, then …"

"Gave her something to think about. I didn't want her running back up here to peep in the windows again."

"Distraction. That's good. I think she's gone."

"Yep, I see taillights in the distance." He reaches out and turns the lock on the door, then flips out the light on the front porch, leaving us in the darkened front hall lit only by the faint glow of the lamp in the living room and sparse moonlight filtering in through the window.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be distracted so easily." I turn around and look up at him. Our eyes lock. I don't know what he's seeing in mine, but I'm seeing a lot of tenderness, a lot of desire, and a lot lust in his. He backs me up against the door again, and somehow I think that I'm in trouble.

"Don't be scared," he whispers. I guess maybe that's what he saw in my eyes. "I'm not gonna hurt you." I let my head fall forward, my forehead landing on his chest. "I'm not the same fool who walked away from you. It's not gonna happen again."

"I know."

"Yeah?" He bends his head down toward mine.

"Yeah." I look up at him, our faces mere inches apart. He closes the gap, and I give in to the kiss without a moment's resistance. I slip my hands up his back and hold his head close to me, not wanting to let him get away. Our kisses grow more passionate and desperate, leaving us gasping for breath every time we pull away from each other. When he finally moves his lips from mine and begins kissing his way down my jaw line and neck, my chest is heaving, and I think I might be panting.

He's working on the buttons of my shirt, his head following his hands and attacking every inch of skin as it is exposed. His hands move to my waist while his head nudges the material to the side so that his mouth can nuzzle at my bare breast. When he finds the hard nipple and sucks it into his mouth, I gasp. And then there's suddenly a lot of moaning and writhing going on, mostly from me. So much for playing hard to get. Oh wait, I never planned on playing hard to get. I've waited damn long enough for this moment. On that note, I let my hands slip off his head where they've been holding him in place, tight up against my body. I reach for the waistband of his pants, but find it a little hard to reach in this position, with him all hunched up in front of me. Luckily, he figures out my intentions and straightens up, returning to his assault against my neck. I quickly grab at his pants, popping open the top button and then yanking the zipper down. Our mouths find each other once again as I push the khakis down over his hips. They fall to the floor and he struggles out of them, pulling his socks off with his feet and then kicking the whole works aside, never once breaking contact with me. In fact, his hands are fumbling at my waistband, undoing my jeans and tugging at them. As he starts to slip them down, he pulls his mouth from mine, and let his lips blaze a trail down the bare flesh between my breasts and then down my stomach until he's resting on his knees in front of me. The t-shirt that I've pulled off him as he was sliding to the floor gets tossed across the front hall, landing somewhere near the stairs. He yanks my jeans off and then quickly returns to lift one of my feet and pull off the sock.

Something tells me that with the way we are yanking and tearing at each other's clothes and desperately trying to touch every inch of the other's body, that there's no stopping this speeding train. And I don't think it's gonna be one of those long and sweet kind of things. It's a little too primal for that. But I don't care how it happens, just so long as it happens. Feeling a little desperate? Absolutely. I knew I wanted him. I knew I probably wanted him bad. But I had no idea how much until this moment. I'm wrenched out of my musings when, with the second foot, he pulls the sock off slowly, a finger tracing lightly along the bottom of my foot. He lifts it up, one hand holding my foot while the other caresses my leg, moving up the knee and back down again. And then he sucks my big toe into his mouth. My hands fall flat against the door behind me, and I find myself moaning. Get a grip, Abby, it's just a toe. Of course, I'm reminded, by what he's doing to that toe, of how good it would feel if he did those same things to certain other parts of my body.

"I love this about you Abby." His voice is low and breathy.

"Shut up," I tell him.

"What? I mean it. I like it. A lot."

"My wanton hussy tendencies?"

He looks up at me with an amused look on his face. "I was going to call it your responsiveness. Just about anyway I touch you, I get a big reaction."

"It's because you're the one who's touching me. You could be giving me stitches right now and you'd be getting this same response."

"God, how did we ever make it through all these months of just cuddling on the couch?"

"I have absolutely no idea. Because I need a lot more than that from you now." My chest is still heaving, and my breath is still coming in short bursts. I'm overwhelmed with the heat and desire that I feel. I reach out and run my hands through his hair wildly, needing to touch him in some way. When I speak again, my voice is soft and raspy. "I need you to make love to me. I need to feel you inside of me."

Our eyes lock again, and I see him swallow hastily. He drops my foot and runs his hands along the outside of legs, stopping at my hips. "Come here," he says.

I sink down to my knees on the clothes piled on the floor. His hands slip up my body, coming to rest on either side of my face. He holds me there in front of him, staring at me for a moment. And then his hands wrap around to the back of my head and he pulls me to him for another deep kiss. Immediately our mouths are open and our tongues are mingling and battling each other. My tongue slips into his mouth and he sucks on it as he lowers my body to the floor. When he moves away from the kiss and starts back down my body once again, I ask, "Here? Don't you wanna go upstairs? Or to the couch."

He looks up at me with a grin, "We could." And then he slips his hand in my panties and does some tricky things with his fingers, causing my hips to buck up against him while my head and shoulders writhe against the floor.

"Here's good," I gasp out.

"Thought so," he says, pulling the panties off and then replacing his fingers with his mouth. I feel his tongue against my sensitive flesh, his breath moaning inside of me and think I'm gonna lose it right there. My hands fall back to his head, my fingers running through his hair, twisting it and holding on desperately while he works his magic.

Suddenly, just when I think I can't take it anymore, he pulls away. He sits up on his knees between my legs and gives me a look fully of longing and hunger. He runs his hands up my belly and then catches the sides of my open shirt. He slips the material slowly down one arm, then the other, and then pulls the shirt out from under me, throwing it over his shoulder. I'm lying here staring at him, still panting and heaving, unable to catch my breath, feeling like I'm in a state of suspended animation. His ministrations have stopped, but the sensations haven't. And I need him to touch me again. I need him. Now. I reach for his wrist, pull his arm over to my mouth and suck in a finger. Then I slowly let the finger roll out of my mouth and run my tongue along the inside of his palm to his wrist. I kiss the inside flesh of his arm, and then suck the skin into my mouth. I've got my eyes pinned to his face, and I can see his eyelids fluttering as he struggles to keep the rest of his body still. I drop his arm and lie looking up at him.

"You gonna take those things off?" I ask, gesturing to the boxer shorts he's still wearing, the only article of clothing that either of us has on. He just nods, moving his hands in that direction. "Wait. Let me."

I slip both of my index fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly, teasingly run those fingers around the edge. I pull at the material, lowing it just a fraction of an inch. "Abby, c'mon."

"Okay," I say, moving my hands away. "You do it." I lean back on my elbows, propping myself up so I can watch. He grabs at the underwear and yanks it down so that it pools around his knees. But my eyes are glued to the specimen of manhood that, once released from the constraints of the boxers, has just sprung to life in front of me. I gulp, both from anticipation and a little bit of nervousness. I haven't done this for a while and I find myself worrying about whether or not everything's going to fit. Not to mention there's the question if I'll even remember what I should be doing. On the other hand, my body is still aching, longing to be filled. Longing to become one with him. And it hasn't been _that_ long. And the last time was with him, so that should make it easier, right? Except, of course, for the added pressure that comes with the fact that I should know what he likes. And what if I don't live up to his memories? Shit, what if he doesn't live up to mine?

"Something wrong?" He asks, noticing me biting my lip. Now he looks a little nervous, too.

"Performance anxiety."

"Hmm, me too. But if it's not perfect …"

"We've got plenty of time to practice."

"Yeah," he agrees. And then we stop talking.

His hands slide up my stomach, over my ribs, and find their way to my bare breasts just longing to be caressed. He's kneading and rubbing and pinching, and I'm thinking that at least he hasn't forgotten what to do to me. I run my hands up his arms and over his shoulders, down to his own sensitive nipples. And after a few moments, I continue on my downward path. He gasps loudly when my hand gently wraps around his shaft as the other hand goes on a bit of an exploration. Everything's just as I remember … all equipment still present and accounted for. I'm stroking him lightly and he's moaning my name in my ear, turning me on even more. My hips seem to raise up on their own pushing against his pelvis, trapping my hand in between us. He lifts his head from where he was nuzzling my hair and looks at me, a question in his eyes. I nod slowly, and let go of him, slipping my hands around to rest low on his back.

His mouth descends upon again, and when we've just barely settled into the kiss, I feel him suddenly shove into me with a long, low moan.

"Oh," I gasp, mostly in pleasure but also in surprise and just a little bit of pain. I freeze up and pull back slightly.

"What's wrong?" His worried eyes search my face.

"Nothing."

"You're eyes look like they are about to bug out of your head. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just … been awhile. I need a minute to … adjust."

"Oh, God, Abby. Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." He starts to pull back.

"No, no! Don't … don't." I keep my hands on his backside, firmly holding him where he is. "Just give me a second." I hold still for moment, letting my body grow used to the feeling of being completely filled. And then once that little bit of discomfort is gone, a wriggle around a bit beneath him, adjusting our position slightly, opening my hips a bit more, wrapping my legs loosely around his. "Okay," I tell him, with a little nod.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me if you want to stop."

"I don't want to stop," I tell him. For emphasis, I thrust my hips up toward him, driving him back inside of me. Deep inside of me. This time the gasp is nothing but pleasure.

"Oh, Abby," he moans, burying his head against my shoulder. I wrap my arms around his neck and turn my head, kissing his cheek, encouraging him to turn toward me so that my lips can capture his. As the kiss deepens, he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, the rest of his body mimicking that action. It's my turn to moan and whisper his name desperately as he moves inside of me. I can tell that he's trying his best to make this slow and gentle, but I also can tell that he's struggling to stay in control.

"Faster, baby," I moan. He looks at me, and I nod and smile, eyes half-closed and not really seeing. But feeling. And it feels just like I remember. Suddenly, I remember every little detail about him, about how good we always were at this part. And how good it feels. Passionate, but comfortable. Everything I've tried to block out comes rushing back to me. "I've missed you," I mumble. He grunts something affirmative and immediately thrusts into me with more vigor. I pull his head down close to mine, and run my tongue along the edge of his ear. And then, in response to his declaration earlier, I whisper in his ear, "I love you, too."

That's all it takes to really set him in motion. Suddenly that primal desperation we were feeling earlier returns full force. We seem to be in a manic frenzy, pushing against each other over and over. He's thrusting into me faster and faster and my hips are moving in perfect unison with him. Our bodies are covered in sweat and our breathing is labored. The whole world has disappeared, and all that's left is just the two of us and the sensations running through our bodies. A sudden jolt runs up my spine, causing my whole body to quake. He notices and must know I'm getting close because he pushes himself up on his arms, moving his chest away from mine. In this position he can thrust much more forcefully and with every stroke, my pleasure meter goes up a notch.

"Oh, oh!" I call out as we rock back and forth. He's pushing into me so fast and furiously that I almost feel as if he's trying to break me in two. But I wouldn't have it any other way, as each time he slams into me I feel the wave of sensation growing bigger and bigger.

"Oh, God! _Abby!_" His face contorts and suddenly I feel a huge, jerking thrust inside of me that pushes me to the crest of the wave, causing me to scream out in pleasure. The wave breaks and the sensations wash over me as my muscles contract around him, inspiring several more, smaller, jerks from him . When he's emptied everything he has into me, he collapses on top of me, totally spent.

His head is resting on my shoulder while one of his hands plays idly with my breast. I have a hand resting on his butt, while my other arm has fallen to my side like dead wood. I don't think I could stand up right now if my life depended on it. We stay like this for a while, until he finally moves to lay on his side, next to me, propping himself up on his elbow as he gazes down at me, one finger trailing between my breasts.

"So what do you think? Not too bad, huh?"

I give him a little smile. "Well, it could have been longer."

His face suddenly turns serious. "I'm sorry, Abby. It's just … God, I wanted you so badly … and once we got started … I just couldn't hold back. God, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'm so sorry, I wanted it to be …" He looks upset, close to tears even. Oh geez, I was just joking around with him.

I lay my hand on his cheek. "John? Honey? I was just kidding. It was perfect, really. Just what I needed. And we've got plenty of time for slow and long later. You don't have anything to make up to me … but I am going to hold you to a repeat performance … once we have a chance to recover."

"It was really okay?"

"No. It was more than okay."

"And you did …right?

"Yeah, right there at the end. You were a little distracted at the time."

"Usually I can tell, and I thought that probably … but I just wanted to make sure."

"Oh yeah, I did. And it was a good one. You don't know how much I needed that."

"Oh, I think maybe I do. Hey, where are you going?" He asks, as I slip away from him. I sit up and reach behind him for his t-shirt, slipping it over my head. I stand up and spy my panties not far away and pull those on, too.

"Something else I need," I tell him as I move across, turning back to see him staring after me.

* * *

I scramble up off the floor, following Abby toward the living room. I pick up my boxers along the way, stepping into them quickly before plopping down on the couch next to Abby. I watch as she opens the pizza box and takes out the last piece of pizza before dropping the empty box on the floor.

"Hungry?" I ask.

"Guess I worked up an appetite."

"Me too. You gonna share?"

"It's the last piece."

"Yeah, but it's a big piece."

"Hmm … I don't think so."

"Oh come on, please?"

"Nope."

"Why not?" Okay, I know I'm bordering on whining here, but why does she get dibs on the last piece?

"Because I got here first. And I don't want to share."

"Too bad," I say, plucking the pizza out of her hand and taking a bite.

"Carter!"

"I just took a bite." I hand it back to her.

"Great. Now it's got your cooties on it."

"Cooties?"

"If I eat this, then I'll have your cooties in me." She gives me an exaggerated disgusted look, and I'm guessing that after what just went on in the front hall, she's just joking around.

"You've got a lot more than my cooties in you, babe."

"Yeah, about that …"

"Huh?" I shake my head, showing that I'm not really following.

"Well, unless you've changed your mind about waiting awhile to get started on the baby thing, we should probably be more careful from now on."

"You're not on the pill?" I ask, a twinge of panic rising up in me before it quickly turns to something far less scary, but more elusive. Not quite excitement, but certainly not fear.

"Why would I be on the pill?" She asks, lifting the pizza up and taking a bite. I guess she decided that my cooties weren't such a bad thing after all. I just shrug. "Was I ever on the pill? If I wasn't when we were doing it every day, every place … why would I be on it now when up until a few minutes ago I was in the midst of a year and half long dry spell?"

"I don't know …Wait … has it really been a year and a half?"

"Yeah, just about."

"So … since we broke up?"

"Yeah. I haven't exactly had a lot of hot dates the past few months … I've spent all my time here with you."

"So there hasn't been anyone?"

"Nope."

"What about the motorcycle guy?"

"Who?"

"That guy who came to the ambulance bay and picked you up on his motorcycle?"

"Oh, the guy who was giving me a ride to our study group."

"Study group?"

"Yep. He was a med student, too. How do you think he knew to just pull right into the ambulance bay?"

"He looked a little old for a med student."

She rolls her eyes at me, "So do I."

"No, you don't. So you were just study partners?"

"Yep. And you know, you don't have to look so surprised. I know everyone in the ER thinks I'm some kind of slut, but I thought you knew better."

"I do know better. But that doesn't mean … well, if you were seeing someone while I was gone … or once I got back … that would hardly be slutty."

"You thought I was sleeping with the guy on the motorcycle."

"Yeah, but I didn't know he was just from your study group. For all I knew, he was your boyfriend of six months by then."

"I think I might have mentioned something like that. Remember, we were spending a lot of time chatting over coffee by then."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that you told me everything."

"I told you nothing. But that's because there was nothing to tell. Work, work, work makes Abby a dull girl. But that's all that was going on."

"Abby … you could never be dull. Not even if you tried."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is."

"I'm not so sure. I thought you wanted … maybe not dull, but steady … ordinary … normal."

"No. I want you."

"Shut up."

"I didn't mean it like that," I tell her. "I just meant that I never know what to expect with you. And I finally realized how much I like that. It keeps life interesting. You're perfectly normal, Abby. But you're anything but ordinary."

"You're pretty extraordinary yourself."

"Thanks. So you gonna share that pizza?"

She stares at me for a minute, and then smiles. "Come and get it." She dangles what's left of the slice of pizza in front of her. I stretch out on the couch and lay my head down in her lap. She dips the pizza down low enough that I can take a bite. "Can you really eat like that?"

"Guess so," I say around a mouthful of pizza.

"I'll save you if you choke."

"Thanks. So … you sure about this whole getting back together thing?"

She seems to be considering, giving me her thinking face. "Yeah, pretty sure." A pleased smile spreads across her face.

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yeah …"

"But?" I ask.

"No but. I was just thinking that it felt a lot like it did before."

"Before when we were together?"

"Well, that too. But mostly I meant before … as in yesterday. When we were just friends, you know."

"Did you think getting back together would change that?"

"I don't know. It seemed to last time. Sex can change things." She shrugs.

"Well, things are different now. We're better now. We won't let it change anything."

"So far that's going well, I guess. After all, here we are back on the couch, as usual."

"With just a few differences. That I happen to think are improvements."

"Well, we're certainly wearing less clothing than usual."

"My point exactly. When we were just friends, we couldn't just sit around in our underwear."

"True."

"Speaking of which, what do you call these things?" I ask, sliding my hand along her hip and slipping a finger into the rim of her underpants.

"Panties?"

"Yeah, I know. But they're … different. Not quite bikinis, but …"

"I think they call them boy-cut. I guess because they kinda look like boys' underwear."

"Except for the pink stripes."

"Yeah, well …"

"I like them. They're sexy."

"Pink-striped, cotton underwear is sexy? Comfortable? Yes. Sexy?"

"Trust me. Sexy. Definitely sexy."

"Hmm … you have any other underwear preferences you care to share?"

"Do you still have those black lace ones? You know, the ones that look like little short-shorts?"

"Yeah."

"Remember the first time you wore those?"

She gives me a wicked grin. "Yeah, I remember that."

"I like those. A lot. With the matching bra … maybe a nice short skirt …" Suddenly, somehow, I'm starting to feel overdressed. Pretty hard to achieve when you're wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.

"All this talk about my underwear seems to be having an odd effect on your underwear." We both look down at the tent forming in my boxers. Abby sighs. "Again, so soon?"

"I thought you'd be happy about it," I say, pushing the material of my t-shirt that she's wearing out of the way so that I can kiss and nuzzle her belly. "I think I remember you saying something about long and slow, making it last."

Her hand drops on to my head and she runs her fingers through my hair. "Oh, boy. Am I ever gonna be sore in the morning."

I turn my head and look up at her. "Or … I could always just take a cold shower."

"Oh, no way in hell. A little soreness is worth it."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, definitely." She leans down and kisses me. "This is the big fringe benefit to being more than just friends. And I intend to take full advantage of my benefits package."

"So what do you say, Abby? You ready to go to bed?"

"Feeling tired?"

"Not at all."

"Good. In that case …let's go. What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing," I say taking her hand and leading her toward the stairs.

Nothing at all. Finally, we're done with waiting. And it's time to get on with our new life together.

__


	3. I'll Take Now

Title: mesh

Author: Andrea

Rating: R

Spoilers: Nope. Spoiler-free. Please keep the reviews and e-mails that way too.

Summary: Abby. Carter. Back together. What more do you need to know?

Author's Note: Thanks to LISA for the editing. Sorry the updates are so few and far between, but I'm in the middle of a big move and barely have time to breathe much less write. So this may be it for a while. But, then again, I was thinking about maybe doing some holiday pieces if I have the time and inspiration. Hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm looking forward to the reviews.

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_**Chapter 3: I'll Take Now**_

"Okay, Abby, spill it."

"Good morning to you, too, Susan."

"I want details."

"You're not getting details," I tell her, turning from my locker and clamping my hand over a huge yawn that I can't seem to stifle.

"If you're yawning already, this must be good. I definitely need details." Just then the door opens and Sam walks in. Great, all the better to gang up on me. Just what I need.

"Details about what?" Sam asks.

"Abby's wild night."

"Wild night?" Sam's intrigued now.

"She finally got some last night."

"_Susan._."

"Congratulations," Sam says. Congratulations? What the hell? I didn't know it was such an achievement. I also didn't know that the whole ER was keeping tabs on my sex life.

"You _did_ get some last night, right?" Susan asks. Just making sure, I guess.

"Why? Am I walking funny?"

"No, but …" Susan stops, looks at me for a moment and then breaks into a grin. "Aha! So you did get some, huh?" So now I have a choice … fess up or put up with her nagging me all day. I'm just gonna end up caving eventually anyway so …

"Yeah," I admit. "Last night." Then, mumbling, "This morning. Several times in between."

"No wonder you're yawning," Susan says, obviously having heard those last statements. Guess they weren't exactly as under-my-breath as I thought.

"Damn." Sam adds. "Good for you,"

"Good for Carter," Susan says, sounding impressed. "I didn't know he had it in him."

"Carter?" Sam is asking. "So Carter's the lucky guy, huh? I guess I should have known." She gives me a speculative look and then says with a smile, "Took you guys long enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"It means … it's about time." Sam says.

"I've been trying to tell her for months."

"It's a good thing you finally got to it," Sam tells me. "We were losing patience."

"Who's we?" I ask.

"You know. The ER."

"The ER? Everyone in the ER is really that concerned about what's going on with Carter and I?"

"Yeah, but the waiting was getting tough, so …"

"Gee, glad I could be of help."

"So, c'mon," Susan says, pulling me over to the couch. "Details."

"Yeah, and don't leave out the good stuff," Sam says.

"Did you do it right there in the front hall?" Susan asks.

"The _front hall_?" Sam sounds surprised, but she perches on the coffee table in front of the couch and leans forward in anticipation.

"Yeah," Susan starts, "As if it wasn't enough that they were making out in front of my baby all night, they practically did it in front me."

"_Susan!_" I protest in a voice somewhere between outrage and exasperation.

"Don't pretend you didn't, Abby." Then she turns to Sam. "They couldn't get me out of the house soon enough. And then the door was barely closed behind me and they'd jumped all over each other."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been peeking in the windows."

"You peeked in the windows?" Sam doesn't seem to share my sense of outrage. In fact, I'm getting the distinct impression that she'd like to high-five Susan.

"They made me leave before I could see anything. But ten bucks says they did it right there in the hall."

"Carter? The front hall?" Sam sounds skeptical. "He seems a little buttoned-up for that kind of thing."

"So do we have a bet?" Susan asks Sam.

"Sure." Sam turns to me. "Well?"

"I'll never tell." Although I can't help laughing on the inside at the thought of Carter being too buttoned-up for sex in the hallway. Little does Sam know that it wouldn't take much to convince him to have sex in the hallway here in the ER.

"Sure you will," Susan says. "So you might as well tell us now."

"No."

"Come on, you have to settle the bet."

"No, I'm not giving you the details. Forget it."

"Forget what?" Carter asks, as he enters the room. Something tells me he's here looking for coffee, but a glance toward the coffee pot confirms that's it empty. Not surprising considering it's the usual state of affairs around here. Before John can even walk toward the coffee, I find myself overcome with some need to take care of him so I pop off the couch and scurry across the room.

"You want coffee?" I ask, not bothering to wait for a response. "I'll do it." In fact, I'm already rinsing out the pot and peering at it, trying to decide if I should actually wash it for once. Normally I wouldn't bother, but for some reason, this morning I want to. I seem to be on a mission to make the perfect cup of coffee.

"Oh God," I hear Susan say behind me, "She's making him coffee. It must be pretty serious."

"You told them?" John asks. He doesn't sound upset, just … curious, I suppose. Maybe a little surprised … but I figure we can't keep it a secret forever. Not that I want to.

"Well, I didn't exactly have to tell them," I remind him. "I think Susan sort of figured it out last night. So it's a good thing we weren't trying to keep it quiet."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Susan asks. "Are you implying that I have a big mouth?"

"No, I wasn't _implying_ it." I toss her a grin over my shoulder as I put the coffee pot on the burner. "And you wonder why I won't give you details?"

"Details?" Carter croaks, unnerved at the though of me sharing them, I suppose. He settles on the end of the couch and turns to give Susan a weary look.

"How about giving me the details then?" Sam wants to know. "_I_ don't have a big mouth."

"Hey," Susan says, sounding offended.

"No," I answer Sam. "We're not participating in show and tell today. So forget about the details."

"Details about what?" John asks, sounding like he already knows.

"You know," I say.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He ducks his head down, and he's blushing. He's cute when he's embarrassed. It makes me want to reach out and ruffle his hair. So I do just that. Before I would have hesitated, even with such an innocent gesture, but not now. I don't really care who sees. I love him, I should be able to touch him.

"You're cute," I tell him, letting my hand rest on the top of his head a moment before smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"So are you," he says, capturing my wrist and pulling me toward him. I drop onto the couch next to him, not exactly on his lap, but about as close to him as I can get, pressed up against his side. I tuck my legs up under me, my knees resting on his thigh, my hand on his chest. And with a yawn, I rest my head against his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asks, slipping his arm around my shoulder and holding me close.

"Mmm …" I mumble, "Someone kept me up all night."

"No, I think someone kept _me_ up all night." Undoubtedly he didn't mean that to sound as … suggestive as it did, but it still sends Susan into a fit of giggles.

"So we heard," Sam says.

"I thought you said you didn't tell them," John says to me.

"Well, I didn't tell them the _details_. I might have mentioned that there were several … uh, instances."

"Did you tell them about the front hall?"

"No, _you _just did. They were trying to get it out of me when you came in, and _I_ refused to tell them. Guess I shouldn't have worried about it."

"So you didn't tell them about the shower?"

"The shower?" Sam asks. Somehow I get the impression that she and Susan are taking notes … all the better to pass this information around the ER later. Oh well. Maybe no one will believe them.

"Twice." Carter tells them. I think he's enjoying this. Probably some weird male ego thing.

"Didn't you run out of hot water?" Sam wants to know.

"Didn't you get all pruny?" Susan asks.

"Two separate occasions," I explain.

Susan glances at her watch. "Two showers? You haven't been back together that long. Making up for lost time?"

"Well, you know, one this morning at his place. And then one at my place."

"Also this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Why would you have needed to take a shower at your place if you just had one at his place? Did you jog there?" Susan asks.

"No. Uh …"

"What?"

"Well …" I look to Carter for help, but he doesn't seem to have anything to offer.

"Oh my God," Sam says, "You did it in the car on the way to your place?"

"Geez, it's like a ten minute drive," Susan sneers.

"No, we didn't … do it in the car. We just … uh …" Now _my_ cheeks are getting red.

"Never mind," Susan says. "I don't want to know."

"I do," Sam says, adding, "You two are like a couple of rabbits." I can't tell if she's impressed or disgusted. "Too bad I can't stick around and hear all about it." She gets up and heads for the door.

"It's that whole making up for lost time thing," Susan tells her.

"Well, whatever it is," Sam says looking back at me from across the lounge, "I just hope you're on the pill or at the rate you guys are going, you'll be pregnant by the end of the week."

I slide a quick a glance at Carter, but his expression is unreadable. He's not giving anything away at the moment. Susan, on the other hand, is rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Best to just ignore that subject … for the moment, anyway.

"Is it busy out there?" I ask Carter.

"Nope. Pretty dead."

"Good," I say in fading voice, letting my eyes drift close.

"Now I understand why you're so tired," Susan says.

"Impressed?" I ask, opening one eye to peer at her.

"Grossed out is more like it."

"I think you mean jealous."

"Shut up."

"Okay." I close my eye, and snuggle up to John a little more.

"I'm gonna let you guys have your little nap. But you'll owe me."

"Whatever," I mumble, feeling myself drifting off. I hear the door swing closed as Susan leaves and feel Carter's chin come to rest on the top of my head. I smile and let sleep wash over me.

"Don't you think we should wake them?" I'm suddenly awake. I know that voice. British accent. Neela. I squeeze my eyes closed, not willing to wake up yet.

"But they're so cute." Susan. I wonder who else is here, watching me … us sleep.

"So 'cute' gets you out of work all afternoon?"

I hear the shrug in Susan's voice. "They had a … long night."

"I didn't realize that baby-sitting was so strenuous."

"I don't think it was the baby-sitting." Uncontrollable giggling. I'm glad Susan is enjoying this so much.

I open one eye and find myself staring at the back of the couch. I realize that John and I have somehow gone from being curled up in the corner of the couch to being sprawled along the length of it with me lying squarely on top of him, my head resting on his chest. I lift my head and turn toward Susan and Neela.

"Oh, look. Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," Susan says. I blink a few times and lay my head back down, resting the other cheek on Carter's chest this time, so that I can look out into the room instead of staring at the couch.

"Or maybe not," Neela says, as my eyes drift close again.

"Hey," I croak out opening my eyes, fully this time, as what I just saw registers, "Are you guys drinking my coffee?"

"Your coffee?" Susan says, sounding a bit indignant.

"Well, the coffee that I made for Carter."

Susan laughs aloud at that. "Abby, that pot of coffee is long gone. That was probably three pots ago, in fact."

"What?" I'm confused. How much coffee can people drink in the span of a short little nap?

As if reading my mind, Susan says, "You guys have been asleep for hours."

"What? Why didn't you wake us up?"

She shrugs. "It's been quiet. Besides, I'm not sure we could have even if we wanted to. Everyone has traipsed in and out of here all afternoon, and you two have hardly stirred. Sam was poking at you earlier, but all you did was bat her hand away and bury your head under Carter's arm. And I don't even think he moved. I don't know _what_ you did to him, Abby, but I'm not sure he'll ever recover. He might still be sleeping here on the couch next week."

"I know how to wake him up," I assure them.

"Shall we leave the room?" Neela asks.

"No, that won't be necessary." I move my head to his shoulder and whisper into his ear, "Wake up, John. C'mon, time to get up." He groans and bit and turn his head toward me, but doesn't seem to really be approaching wakefulness. I kiss his neck and try again. "Wake up, Carter."

"Mmm … Abby?" I turn to see a smile on a his face, but his eyes are still closed tight as his arms wrap around me tight, holding me close to him.

"Good guess," I tell him. "Glad you got it right. But you still have to wake up. C'mon."

"Yeah, I can see where that's working really well, Abby," Susan says with the most sarcasm she can muster up.

"Okay, well … I know one way that _always_ works."

"We really are leaving then," Neela says, starting toward the door.

"Speak for yourself," Susan tells her.

I roll my eyes. "You don't have to leave," I assure Neela. "And there won't be any nudity involved. Sorry," I tell Susan. I reach up and pinch Carter's nose closed. Predictably, his mouth falls open. And within seconds, he's flailing his head around. I pull my hand away, just about the time his eyes fly open.

"Hi," I say cheerfully.

"Hi." He gives me a little smile as his sleepy eyes gaze around the room. "What's going on?" He asks me, his voice still full of sleep, sounding deep and throaty.

"We had a nap. A long nap. Everyone's been watching us sleep. They probably took pictures, too."

"Just a few," Susan qualifies. "And they're cute. I'll print some out for you." She probably used that damn digital camera that she's taken to carrying around with her ever since Charlie was born.

"What?" John says, sounding dazed.

"Don't worry about it." I smooth the hair back from his forehead and gaze fondly at his face, still relaxed by the remnants of sleep. His features are softened, and he looks, for all the world, like a sleepy little boy struggling to wake up. "You're not awake yet, are you?" I prop myself up on my elbow and smile at him lovingly.

"What's that look for?"

I shake my head slightly. "I was just thinking how cute you are when you're half asleep."

"You keep telling me how cute I am, and I'm gonna get some sort of complex," he says, pulling me back in close to him, and turning his head so that he can kiss me. It's a soft and sweet kiss, but passionate enough to make me forget about the other people in the room.

"A-_hem_." Susan clears her throat loud enough to bring us back into the real world.

"Sorry," John says in a contrite voice, shifting me off of him so that he can sit up. He stretches and looks at his watch, doing a classic double take when the time sinks in. "Is that right? That can't be right."

"It's right," Susan assures him.

"We slept through practically our whole shift?" He asks, sounding stunned.

"Speak for yourself, I still have hours to go."

"Still …"

"Yeah, I know," I say.

"Well," Susan says to us, "Maybe if you two wouldn't be up 'til all hours engaged in various … activities, you could get some sleep at night."

"And then have sex in the lounge all day?" I quip, shocking Neela a little bit, I think.

"Maybe you two should take a vacation," Susan suggests.

"You gonna cover for me?" Carter asks her.

"I don't think you're a problem. They're used to you coming and going. But I'd probably have to die to get any time off."

"Aww, poor Abby. Poor, overworked intern. Such a shame." Susan's idea of sympathy.

"You would think it would be in their best interests not to work us to death the first year," Neela says.

"Aww, poor Neela. Don't worry, you'll get through it. Look at Carter and I. We got through it. And it didn't kill us or drive us around the bend or anything."

"Well, it didn't kill you anyway," I helpfully add.

"Next time I'm waking you up. With a bucket of cold water."

"That's what friends are for, I guess."

"Neela and I are gonna get back to work. If you feel like working at all during the rest of your shift, just come find me. I can probably come up with something for you to do."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I tell her as she leaves. Neela lingers to give me a look that I can't quite decipher, but then follows Susan out of the lounge, leaving John and I alone for the moment.

"So you going home now?" I ask him.

"Hard to believe that my shift is over already. This has to be the easiest shift I ever worked."

"Worked?"

"Okay. Mostly slept through. No wonder it went by so fast."

"Yeah, imagine that."

"I could stick around," he offers.

"No," I say shaking my head. "I appreciate the thought, but you should go home. Get some rest …" I give him a look that I hope comes off as the suggestive leer that I had in mind.

"If you're sure …" He gives me a grin that leaves no doubt in my mind that my meaning came through loud and clear.

"Oh, I'm sure." I stand up, somewhat reluctantly. "But I suppose I ought to see _some_ patients today."

"You saw some this morning," he points out as he stands up and catches me around the waist, letting his hands rest on the small of my back.

"Oh yeah. Before nap time. But still …"

"You want me to leave the car for you?" Oh yeah, my car is still sitting in front of his house.

"Nope, I can take the El."

"I can come back and pick you up."

"No, that's okay. I'll be fine on the El," I assure him.

"I'll meet you there then."

"At the El? It's only a few blocks, I'm sure I'll be fine."

He sighs, but then smiles at me with a shake of his head. "Okay, so I'll see you at home then?"

"Yeah," I reach up and give him a quick peck on the lips before slipping out of his grasp and starting across the room. I pause at the door and look back at him. "I'll see you … at home."

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I told Abby I would wait at home for her. But somehow, I find myself waiting on the El platform instead. I watch as another train pulls to a stop. This time, when the door slides open, instead of strangers giving me wary glances, it's Abby who steps onto the platform. She sees me right away and shakes her head. She's trying her best not to smile, but to give me a disapproving look instead. But I see the smile in her eyes, and I know that whatever kind of crap she may give me, she's secretly pleased to find me here.

"You were afraid I'd get lost?" she asks, walking toward the bench where I'm sitting.

"No, not exactly," I say, standing up and grabbing her hand.

"Just couldn't wait to see me?" She's being sarcastic, as usual, but she has no idea how right she is.

"Yeah. That's it." I say it quietly, sincerely, but with a playful tone.

Abby gives me a suspicious, sidelong glance. But then she giggles and breaks into a smile, ducking her head … in embarrassment? "You're gonna spoil me," she says.

"Spoil you?"

"With all this special treatment."

"Special treatment? Meeting you at the El?"

"Uh-huh."

"Boy, I must have really neglected you last time." It's a joke, but we both know there's truth behind the joke.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

"I just meant … it's the honeymoon phase, you know. I better enjoy it while I can."

"While you can?"

"Yeah. I better not get too used to it. By this time next week you won't be meeting me at the El when I have a late shift. You'll be mumbling something as I leave in the morning about being sure to not wake you up when I get home in the wee hours of the morning."

"I won't be doing that … Not next week, anyway. Maybe next month." She gives me a swat on the arm, but without much substance behind it. "Seriously … I probably won't meet you at the El every time you come home later than I do, but I'm not gonna take you for granted this time." I steal a glance at Abby, and find her looking down at our hands. My gaze, too, falls to our intertwined fingers. "I promise you that. I've promised myself that. I'm not gonna screw up this time."

"You're not the only one who made mistakes."

"Okay, we're not gonna screw it up this time."

"Right." She leans in closer to me as we walk, resting her head against my shoulder. "It feels different this time. I guess because we're different. Except we're still the same." She pauses, then says in self-mocking tone, "That makes a _lot_ of sense."

"And yet, I understand perfectly. I think it's just … we're ready now. Everything up until now was just practice. Until we were ready to get it right."

She's still giving me a long look when we come to the house. She follows me up the front steps, and I unlock the door and usher her inside. I watch as she glances around the room and the expression on her face turns to something more speculative. She raises one eyebrow at me.

"What?" I ask her, as if I didn't know.

"Somebody moving?" She asks, gesturing to the bags at the foot of the stairs.

"You."

"Me?" She looks at me now with disbelief.

"Well … sort of. I thought you'd feel more at home if you had some of your stuff here. And we wouldn't have to be running over to your place before work all the time."

"So you just went and packed up some of my stuff." Her voice is flat and gives away no hint of her feelings.

"Um … yeah? I hope you're not mad. I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"I'm not mad. I just … wait, how did you get into my apartment? _I_'_ve_ got my keys."

"Uh … I kind of … borrowed your extra set this morning."

"You took my keys?" She sounds a little mad. And I guess I can understand that.

"Well, I figured …" I trail off. Because what if I'm wrong and Abby had no intention of giving me the key to her place? Just because she has a key to my place …

"Way to stand on ceremony. Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to _present_ them to you?"

"So you don't mind that I have them? You just wish that you could have given them to me?"

"Well … yeah. After all, I've got the keys to your place, you should have the keys to mine. But it would have been nice to give them to you instead of having you snitch them out of the junk drawer."

"Oh. Well, in that case." I reach into my pocket and drop the key ring with her keys into Abby's hand. "Now you can give them to me."

"Maybe I don't want to now."

"Fine. Be that way." But even as I say it, I'm slipping her jacket off and hanging it up for her. "C'mon," I say, leading the way to the kitchen.

"So what kind of stuff did you bring over?"

"Your stuff?"

"Well, I hope it wasn't the neighbor's stuff."

"What neighbor?"

"You know what I mean. What am I gonna find when I open the bags you packed for me?"

"You know. Clothes and stuff. Clean underwear."

"You went through my underwear?"

"Yeah," I smile, relishing the memory.

"Pervert. Did you bring my toothbrush?"

"Got you a new one."

"Thanks. Hey, are you cooking?" She peers into a pot sitting on the stove.

"Well, I'm heating. Does that count?"

"Soup?"

"It's starting to get cold outside. So soup sounded good. And it's not even from a can."

"No? Where did it come from?"

"The gourmet market."

"Gourmet, huh?"

"Nothing but the best for you."

That gets me an eye roll. "I didn't know you could get a toothbrush at the gourmet market."

I shrug. "I don't know if you can or not. I didn't get it there. I picked _that _up at the pharmacy. Along with a few other things."

I guess that piques her interest because she wanders over to the table to investigate the bag from the pharmacy. "Purple," she says, pulling out the toothbrush and waving it around. "Nice choice. What else have we got here? Deodorant, razors, soap … you remember what kind of soap I use? Because I certainly don't think you were paying any attention this morning." But even going for the joke, I can tell how pleased she is.

"I missed that soap," I say wistfully as Abby continues to paw through the bag.

"John." She looks up from the bag and gives me a look that I can't quite decipher.

"Huh?"

"There are an awful lot of condoms in here."

"Yeah, well …" I feel a slight flush come to my cheeks.

"I hope you don't think we're gonna use all these tonight."

"Abby … I think that would probably kill me. I just thought it would be good to have a bunch around. We can stash them all over the house."

"All over the house. At my place. In the car. My bag. Your pocket." I think she's teasing me.

"I guess I was thinking about what Sam said."

"Sam's idea of a joke. I didn't even know you noticed."

I shrug. "I did. And I knew she was joking, but I guess it reminded me that we need to take some precautions until it's time."

"Time?"

"You know, the right time. Baby time."

"Baby time," she mumbles. The tone of her voice, the look on her face … I know there's something going on. But I'm not sure just what.

"What's wrong?"

She looks at me for a moment, but doesn't answer. "So are you hungry? Can we eat?" She starts moving around, setting the table, preparing for dinner. It takes all the restraint that I can muster not to ask her again. But I remind myself that it's best not to push her. If I just give her some time, she'll open up when she's ready. That's been a hard lesson for me to learn, but I think I finally got it. And as much as I want to know what she's thinking right this moment, I know I'll get nowhere by nagging her.

"Sure, let's eat." I get busy slicing and buttering bread while Abby ladles out the soup. We sit down and eat, exchanging small talk about work and the weather to get us through the meal. When Abby falls silent, idly twirling her spoon through the dregs in the bottom of her bowl, I struggle to wait her out, knowing it's better if I let her say it in her own way. Finally, she looks up at me, the deep, brown pools of her eyes reflecting the fear and uncertainty she must be feeling. Her eyes fall away from mine, and I have to strain to hear her.

"What if I can't do it?"

"Do what?" It pops out before I realize what I'm saying. I know what she's talking about. But now she probably thinks I'm trying to torture her by making her say the words.

"Have a baby." She gets up from the table in a flurry of activity, sweeping the dishes over to the sink and turning on the water to rinse everything off.

"What do you mean by can't?" I ask, genuinely confused as to her meaning.

She shrugs, her back to me. "Just … can't."

"Did you change your mind?" I get up and move across the room to stand behind her. I rub her shoulder gently, wanting to let her know that whatever her answer is, it's okay. I hope, with all my heart, that she hasn't changed her mind about having my baby, but if she has … well, that doesn't change anything else. Besides, I've got plenty of time to change her mind back. I smile a bit at the thought. Changing Abby's mind about anything is easier said than done, and I'd certainly never want to have to coerce her into anything as important as motherhood. But then again, it never hurts to point out all the rewards and hope that she'll see things my way eventually.

"We didn't exactly think it through."

"No," I agree, slipping my arms around her waist now and resting my chin on her shoulder, "But sometimes the best decisions we make are the ones we make in a heartbeat."

"I know." To my surprise, she hasn't fought my embrace at all, but instead, has seemed to melt into it.

"Sometimes it's how we know what it is that we really want."

"It's not about what I want."

"Then what's it about?"

She leans back and turns her head to look at me. I see some emotion in her eyes that I can't quite pin down. Fear? Pain? I'm not sure, but her eyes are glistening with unshed tears so it must be something intense. She pulls out of my arms then and goes back to sit at the table. She bites at her thumb nail and eyes me nervously, trying to work up to whatever it is she's about to say, I guess.

"I … I don't want to let you down again. I don't want to disappoint you. And then lose you. Not again."

And then I understand. And almost wish I didn't. She thinks I'm putting unspoken conditions on … us. And why shouldn't she? I did it before, didn't I? And when she didn't live up to the expectations that she didn't even know I had -- that _I_ didn't even know I had -- I bailed on her. Of course she's worried that I'd do that same thing now. Especially since she knows, more than anyone else, how important children are to me. Now more than ever. I force myself to look over at her and watch as she lifts her eyes up to meet mine. Her face all guilelessness and vulnerability. So unlike Abby. And yet, I'm learning, so very much like Abby. If you know where to look for it. And here she is, opening up to me, not holding back. And I'm very aware that I better not screw this up.

I cross the room and get down to my knees on the floor next to her chair. I take her hand and wait for her to look me in the eye once more. "Abby," I hesitate, suddenly scared to death that I'll say the wrong thing. I finally decide that maybe I ought to tell her _that_. "Look, I don't know quite how to say this. And I'm worried about getting it right, so I'll probably mess it up. So you might have to give me another to chance to make it come out right, okay?" She nods, almost imperceptibly, but keeps her gaze locked on me.

"I love you, Abby. I'm only just realizing how much, but I've loved you for so long, I can't imagine what it would be like to not love you. Even all this time that we were apart when I tried to deny it and ignore it and even when I went to extreme lengths to prove to myself that it was gone … I always knew that it was there. And I don't think it's ever gonna go away." She smiles at me, and I reach out to stroke her cheek. "You know before, I thought it was unconditional, but I realize now that I had all these strings attached. I had all these things that I expected of you. That I expected of us. I thought when you found the _one_ that everything would be perfect. And if it wasn't … but I know now that's not the way it works. When it's real, when it's the right person, it's still work. There are still going to be stumbling blocks that you have to work through. You don't just give up. And this time I won't. I'll love you … no matter what. Even if you have to put something or someone else first sometimes. Even if you fall off the wagon. Even if you don't want to have a baby."

She's crying now, tears slipping down her cheeks. But she sniffles, and looks at me, suddenly startled and confused. "I want to have a baby."

"But you said …"

"I said 'what if I _can't_?' "

"Like if you can't bring yourself to do it, right? If you get too scared about passing on the bipolar disorder? Because, Abby, so long as you're open to raising children, to being a mother … there are other ways. Lots of them. If it's just the biology, we can find ways around it. I mean, the first thing we can do is talk to a genetic counselor, and then --"

"John."

"No, really, Abby. It might help. To know exactly what we're up against. And if it seems too risky, there're still lots of ways -- adoption, surrogates, donor eggs, donor embryos. The technology is out there and money's not an issue. And as much as I'd love to look at my child and see your face, the biology really doesn't matter. Not nearly as much as having a child to call our own and --"

"_John_."

"What?"

"That's all good to know," she says, looking bemused now, "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"Oh. Well then, what are you talking about?" She hesitates a moment, and I stand up, pulling her to her feet as well. "C'mon … let's go get comfortable and talk this out." I see her glance over at the dishes. "Later. Just leave 'em." I drag her out to the couch where she settles on the end opposite from me. But she doesn't protest when I move over next to her and pull her to me. I wait her out through several false starts until finally I feel, more than hear, her sigh.

"I want to have a baby," she reiterates. My heart seems to swell at the those words, and I can feel the smile forming on my face. "Specifically, _our_ baby. I've held so many newborns, now I want to hold one that's mine. I want to know what that feels like. I know all about the risks, and they still worry me. But not enough, anymore, I guess, to keep me from what I want. I mean, if everyone worried about all the things that could go wrong, no one would ever have children. And what's the worst that could happen? I end up with a child that grows up to be like Eric? It would be hard, but … I guess I've realized that as much as it hurts watching Eric go through this, the only thing worse would be if he wasn't here at all. So it's worth it … the hurt in exchange for all the good. That's how it is with you, too. Even after things went wrong, I didn't really regret it. Because some of my best moments were with you. And I wouldn't have traded them for anything, not even to make the pain go away. I guess that's how it would be with a child, too. And … I want one."

"So then what's the problem?"

"Well, just because it's what we want doesn't mean it will happen. Lots of people want to get pregnant, try to get pregnant, and can't get pregnant." She looks down at her lap where she nervously traces a pattern on her jeans. Her voice drops down to a whisper. "What if I can't? Or what if I can't stay pregnant? I don't want to put you through that. I don't want to be the one to hurt you like that. And if I can't give you what you want …"

Alarm bells are clanging in my head. Something tells me this is about more than just her fears about infertility. I realize that she's worried about what it would mean for us. Not just the sadness or disappointment we would feel, but what it would mean for our relationship. "Do you think I would leave you if you can't give me a baby?" I detect the slightest shrug from her. And then another thought slips into my mind. "Do you think … Abby, you don't think that this … that _us_ is just a means to an end for me, do you?"

"You mean … that you want me back just so I can give you a baby?"

"Yeah."

"No. Not really. It's not what I_ think_; it's what I worry about."

"Well, you can stop worrying because it's not the case. "

"But mostly I worry about letting you down."

"You couldn't. You've already more than proven that. And I wouldn't walk away from you if you couldn't get pregnant. Like I said, there are other ways. I want us to be a family. You, me .. and children. But I don't much care where they come from. My first preference is for babies that we make together, but I meant it when I said that the biology really doesn't matter. So if we can't get pregnant … well, there are lots of treatments to try and if that doesn't work … we can find some other way to be parents. Unless you change your mind about that part and decide that I'd be an awful dad --"

"You'd be a great dad."

"Or that you're scared to be a mom. I know with Maggie and everything …but for what's it worth, I think _you'll_ be a great mom. It's what I always wanted, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But don't worry -- I'm not expecting anything from you than to just be yourself. And that's all you have to do to be the mother I want for my children."

She looks up at me from her curled-up-in-my-arms position, and then lifts her head to give me a quick kiss. "You're sweet. Possibly completely full of shit, but sweet nonetheless."

"I'm not kissing your ass, Abby. It's true. I think you'll be an incredible mother. And it's what I wanted ever since …"

"Ever since when?" she asks when I trail off.

"Ever since I can remember. It's always been tied up with you -- this idea of … well, I never wanted you and I to be just … I always wanted us to be _it_, you know. I wanted a family. And I wanted it with you. But even if we weren't going to have a family … if, for whatever reason, you changed your mind, I would still want you. I won't lie, I'd be disappointed, but not in you. And I hope it'll never come down to this, but if I had to choose between you or kids … I'd choose you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you don't have to choose. Not now. Not this time."

"And you don't know how happy that makes me. But Abby, I'm not with you just for a baby." She gives me a long, contemplative look. I think she believes me, but just in case … "I can prove it."

"Prove it?"

"Yeah, hang on," I say, gently encouraging her to sit up so that I can slip from behind her. I go out to the hall to retrieve a small packet from my jacket pocket. I return to the couch and sit down next to Abby, facing her this time. I hold out the contents of my hand to her.

"What's this?"

"Plan B."

"The morning after pill?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to take these?"

"No, I want you to know that if you want to take them, I'm fine with it."

"And if you were in it just for the baby, you'd want me knocked up as soon as possible, right?"

"I guess."

"So this is my proof."

"Well …that's not why I brought them home."

"Why did you? I mean, I could have gotten them for myself at work."

"I know. But like I said … I wanted you to know where I stand. I knew you might have gotten some already. For all I knew, you may have taken the first dose already."

"John. I wouldn't do that. Not without talking to you."

"No, I didn't really think so. But it would have been okay if you had. After all, we both agreed that we ought to wait awhile. And if only we'd been thinking more clearly last night …"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I thought about getting them myself."

"But?"

"But … all this stuff we've been talking about. And then there was this patient …" I give her what I'm sure is a blank look. She sighs and gets up, moving over to the windows. I watch her cross her arms loosely as she looks out the window. After a moment she turns back toward me. "You weren't the only one who … took note of what Sam said. I mean, I know she was just joking around. But I got to thinking about how just last night we decided that, of course, we should wait awhile. And then what do we go and do? Have unprotected sex in the hallway."

"And the bed, the kitchen, the bathroom, this couch …" I can't help adding.

"Yes, I remember. But it was more the unprotected part that I was focusing on. So anyway, I did the math. And I knew … well, there's pretty good chance that I was ovulating. Or just had or was just about to."

"So_ that's_ why you were all over me. Some primitive hormonal thing."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Me? All over you?" She laughs dismissively.

"That's how I remember it."

"Clearly, your memory is going. So anyway, I was thinking that we'd been careless at just the right time … or wrong time, I suppose. And I figured maybe I should do something to rectify the situation. So I went to the drug lock-up, and I'd just found them when Haleh appeared with some patient labs. A 12 week IUP with spotting who was afraid she was having a miscarriage. But the labs checked out the fine; her exam showed that everything was fine. I got to give somebody some good news … which was nice. When I told her that everything was okay, she burst into tears. She told me she didn't know what she would have done if she'd lost the baby because she spent the last two years trying to get pregnant. And I started thinking about … I don't know, missed opportunities, I guess. It's dumb because I wasn't thinking about a missed opportunity for last month or even next month. And I still think it's a good idea to wait awhile, but … somehow this," she gestures to the pills in her hand, "feels different. I'm not sure how, but … I mean, if we'd used condoms last night -- and this morning," I catch a little grin slip onto her face momentarily at that thought, "I wouldn't be giving it a second thought. But we didn't and now …"

"What?" I prompt, wondering if she thinking what I'm thinking. And also realizing what's probably inspired this round of doubts.

"It's so silly. I mean, we agreed that this isn't the best time. We just barely got back together, for God's sake. We need time to get used to ... everything."

"But?"

"But … what if it's already happening? What if I stop something that's already starting, and we never get another chance? And then I'll always wonder 'what if?' " Turns out she is thinking what I'm thinking. I'm so caught up in thoughts about how we obviously haven't lost the ability to read each other's minds that I almost miss what she's saying now. "But it's so crazy because I know you could ask yourself the same thing about any month that you keep it from happening. And I'm not suggesting that we throw the birth control out the window so … I don't know. I guess I really should take these. There's no good reason not to. It would be the sensible thing to do. We decided this isn't the right time." Her words sound firm, but her eyes tell a different story. We don't always want what's logical and practical, after all.

"Yeah, that's true," I say carefully, not wanting to exert undue influence. Still, she seems to want to include me in the decision. "But I know what you mean. Somehow, it does seem different, after the fact. But I'm okay with it. If it's what you want. But if not … well, that's okay, too. Ideally, I think that a little bit later, after we've had some time to get used to being an us again, would be better. Get used to it being the two of us before it's the three of us … But if the choice were between now and never --"

"I'd take now," she says in unison with me.

"We could just let it ride," I suggest.

"Yeah," she agrees, but doesn't sound sure. We share a long look, and then she nods, once.

And then, suddenly, she's moving across the room. I watch as she hurries off to the kitchen, leaving me confused. Did we make a decision? Where's she going?

"Abby?"

"Yeah?" She says, returning to the room, glass of water in hand. But I thought …

"So … did you decide to take them, then?"

She stops in front of me, giving me a smile as she looks down at me. "No," she shakes her head, "I decided to put them down the garbage disposal."

"Oh. So they're gone? "

"Well, I know where I can get more," she says, with a chuckle giving me an amused, but questioning half smile.

"Not what I meant. So … we'll just see what happens, huh?"

She sets her glass down on the table and lifts my hand up so that she can quickly slip into my arms. Settling down on the couch next to me, but leaning against me, she wraps my arm around her. And then I feel her head settle onto my shoulder. "Well just see what happens," she echoes.

"You fit just right," I murmur into her hair.

"What?"

"I like the way your head fits just right into my shoulder. Like that's where it was always supposed to be."

"Well, if my head were always on your shoulder, it might make life difficult. Think about trying to work a trauma like that."

I sigh audibly. "Gee, Abby, you sure know how to make the most of a moment." But it's all I can do to hide the smile that wants to creep across my lips.

"You know you like it," she says with a yawn, snuggling a little closer.

"Maybe," I admit. I flip the tv on and hunt around until I find a movie I know that we both like. We sit together watching and not talking for a while. Her fingers tangle through the hair at the nape of my neck while my fingers methodically massage her scalp, something that she always used to say was incredibly relaxing.

"This is so weird." Abby's voice startles me out of the trance-like stupor I'd fallen into.

"What?"

"You don't think it's weird?" Abby asks me as her hand trails lightly up my chest.

"Hmm … tell me what 'it' is and I let you know how I feel about 'it.' "

"You know. This. Being here like this. Back together. It's a lot like yesterday. Only entirely different. And it's just … weird. Yesterday we were just friends, albeit with a history. But still … and now, here we are."

"Back together, you mean?"

"Well not just that. Back together and … serious. Committed. Right?"

She sounds a little uncertain, so I drop a kiss onto the top of her head. "Right," I say firmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Which is good. Especially considering the whole … baby thing. But don't you find it weird? Literally, it was just yesterday that we were just friends and today we're talking about having a baby. That the issue of birth control should be at question at all when you just got together with someone is a little … insane."

"Yeah, but we got _back_ together. We talked about this last night. It's not like we just met yesterday or even a few months ago. This has been building for years. And I really feel like everything up until now has happened to get us to this point. Like this is where we are really supposed to be. But if you feel like we're rushing into anything and you're not ready…"

"If I felt that way, I would have taken those pills. I didn't say I wasn't happy with the way things are; I was just … marveling at how much things can change in such a short time."

"Sometimes that's a good thing."

"In this case," she says, "It's a very good thing. But it's still … a little … unbelievable. Hard to get my brain around this whole thing and exactly what it means."

"It feels good, though, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Comfortable. Familiar. But new and exciting, too. And just … the way it should be." I stroke her hair lightly, lovingly, happier than I can describe to have her back in my arms when I didn't think that it would ever happen again.

"I feel like I'm dreaming." She echoes my thoughts, her voice sounding a little dreamy, all soft and breathy.

"You're awake." My voice is barely a whisper.

"Then it must be a dream come true."

Not exactly the type of sentiments I expect to come out of Abby's mouth. But not surprisingly, my sentiments exactly. "Then we must have been having the same dream. I didn't think that I deserved a second chance with you. But I'm so glad you gave me one. Because this really is all I ever wanted." Our eye meet first, and then our lips. When we pull away, my eyes are drawn to hers, a magnetic reaction, as if we're opposite poles with a pull toward each other stronger than we could have ever imagined. "This is the first time, in a long time, that I've felt … alive. Happy. And that … I've really felt like myself."

She's nodding, undoubtedly understanding me perfectly. "When I'm with you, I feel like I'm really myself. Not just that I'm comfortable enough to be myself, but that I'm the most like the self that I want to be." She hesitates for a moment, but I can sense that there's something else that she wants to say. Finally, she speaks again. "They say that when you love someone, it's not just for who they are, but for who they make you. And you make me the best me that I can be."

"You don't need me for that, Abby."

"No, but I do need you. You know that, right? Not to save me. But just to be … with me. Because something is always missing when you're not here."

"I don't know how I got so lucky. I wouldn't have blamed you if you hated me after … how I hurt you. I know you think I was disappointed in you, but I wasn't. I was disappointed in myself. So I don't know how you can say I made you a better person."

"Well, adversity is character building, right? And I _am_ a better person because of you. My life is better because of you. There's all these things that I may have missed out on if it hadn't been for you. I feel like I owe you … and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"And there's nothing you wouldn't have done for me then, right?" I sigh, realizing all over again what a colossal idiot I was to have walked away from her the first time around.

"All you would have had to have done was ask."

"I was afraid of that."

"I figured this time I better just offer."

Suddenly an idea that has been worrying around the edge of my subconscious crystallizes in my mind. "Abby … you're not just doing this for me, are you?"

"This what?" I'm just about to answer when she continues. "Oh, the baby thing? Yes, I'm doing it for you. And for me. For us. Because it's what I want. Because there's nothing else I could do … not and be satisfied with my life. Am I doing it for you? Absolutely. Is that the only reason? Of course not. But you know what? It's one more thing that I'm doing _because _of you. Without you … or with someone else … I don't know … but with you …" She trails off then, and I don't really know how to respond.

"I'm … honored," I say finally. And I am. To have had that kind of influence on her … and apparently a positive influence in spite of all my mistakes is pretty amazing. And that she's not just willing, but also wants to do something for me that she wouldn't necessarily do for someone else. And something that I want so much that I always feared she'd never want."

"You're right," she says, pulling me out of my reverie.

"Huh? Right about what? Being honored?"

"No. About how good this feels. How right it feels."

I smile and wrap my arms around her a little more tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

"I was a fool."

"I know."

"I'm better now."

"I know."

"I'm gonna make it up to you. Somehow. It might take a while, though."

She looks up at me from her place nestled in my arms. "Lucky for you that I'm not going anywhere. You can have all the time you need. You can have the rest of our lives."

The rest of our lives … I like the sound of that.


End file.
